Survival of the Misfits
by Stormkpr
Summary: The sequel to 'Farewell to Life the Way We Knew It'. The Misfits try to survive within a hostile music industry and even more hostile world. Stormer will be focused on and the fic will also contain the AjaCraig relationship. COMPLETE!
1. Default Chapter

**SURVIVAL OF THE MISFITS**

By Stormkeeper

Disclaimer:

All characters © Hasbro Inc. and Sunbow Entertainment. I'm not making any money off of this and this is done purely for fan entertainment.

Author's notes: 

This fic is the sequel to my earlier piece, "Farewell to Life the Way We Knew It". You might want to read "Farewell" before you open up this one, since a lot here won't make sense unless you're familiar with the first book.

"Survival of the Misfits" is rated PG-13 due to some profanity and adult subject matter. A few later chapters might go up to an R rating. Enjoy the fic, and please give feedback!

Survival of the Misfits

Sunlight poured into Jetta's room. She groaned and turned over onto her stomach, shutting her eyes. The light from outside shone on the bouquet of flowers on display inside the vase, brilliantly illuminating pink stargazer lilies and handsome chrysanthemums. Various limbs of Jetta's felt stale and she knew that she had been in bed for too long, even by rock star standards. No matter. She deserved every bit of this rest and intended to enjoy it.

She drifted off once more into a very pleasant sleep. Last night had been a triumph for the Misfits. They had played to a roaring crowd of thousands. Their music had been hot fire. The spellbound audience adored them. The ovation before their final encore had been deafening; it had been the loudest that any Misfit could recall. It had been too long since they had played to such a large group, and Jetta had nearly forgotten how awe-inspiring the experience could be.

And the part in the dressing room after the show had been wonderful too. Jetta grimaced just a bit since they had crossed the line and gotten downright sappy with each other for a minute or two. But the sentiments were real and maybe it wasn't so bad that they had been expressed out loud. Having someone to care about and having that caring out in the open were not totally reprehensible ideas, she mused, and she did have to admit to herself that her bandmates were her family. Even Roxy.

Now only half-asleep, Jetta wished that various figures from her past could have been there to watch the concert. Her lazy parents who had scoffed at her every ambition – that is, on those rare occasions when they made the time to listen to her. The bullies on the school playgrounds who had mocked her, making fun of her thrift-store clothing. The twits in her first band who hadn't wanted to leave London. The boundaries of that small country could not contain Jetta.

Well, none of those things mattered too much anymore, she felt. She disposed of her past, not giving it any more thought than the scraps from yesterday's breakfast plate. It was behind her and she never was one to dwell too much on the past. It was the future that she was concerned with. It simultaneously excited and worried her. As she finally pulled herself out of bed and towards the bathroom, she hoped that the benefit concert last night had not been the Misfits' last stand. It might be,' she said to herself. If we don't take some action.'

Jetta was going to make sure that her band survived.

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Pizzazz heard the knock on her door, wondering who on earth would have the chutzpah to disrupt her. No one was to disturb her before she came down for breakfast! Or lunch, in today's case.

"Who the hell is it?" she yelled.

Jetta smiled to herself, glad that the mushy part from the previous evening didn't mean that Pizzazz wasn't the same crab as usual. "It's me. When you're up, can we talk?"

"What the hell is so urgent that it can't wait? And what damn time is it now?" The digital clock was facing away from Pizzazz and she had no desire to sit up and turn it in her direction.

"It's twelve-thirty."

"Only? That ain't so late," she grumbled to herself. "I'll go get you when I'm good and ready," she called to Jetta.

"Sounds ace!" Jetta said. "The sooner the better, luv," she added.

An hour later, Jetta found herself in Pizzazz's room, sharing a lunch that she had brought up to the singer on a tray. Pizzazz was reminiscing about the concert as she gobbled down a greasy grilled cheese sandwich and a crunchy salad.

"We were so good. We were incredible," she murmured. "I looked so stunning. My voice was as great as ever." She took another bite of her food and washed it down with a diet soda. Wrapped up in fond memories of yesterday evening, Pizzazz did not notice that Jetta's hair was enhanced today with one of the lilies from the bouquet she had given the saxophonist before the concert.

Jetta encouraged her. "You're so right. We were at our best! You looked wonderful too."

"Damn right I did. Which is good, all those photographers there."

"Yes, we haven't had so much press in years."

"Uh-huh," Pizzazz said, a wistful smile on her face. "I can't wait to see the headlines!"

"Pizzazz," Jetta began, her tone having changed in an instant to one that conveyed the message 'now-I'm-getting-serious-and-you'd-better-listen-to-me!' "Pizzazz, you do remember that we barely avoided getting a really bad headline? A headline saying something like, 'Misfits Career Finished, Lesbian Band Member Arrested!'"

Pizzazz stopped chewing. She gulped and asked, "Why do you have to spoil my good mood?"

Jetta gave her a sour look. "Because sometimes, luv, you need a reality check. We had a blinder of a show last night but we barely avoided a media disaster! Can you imagine what would've happened had we not been rescued by Jem and the Holograms? Our careers would've all gone up the left! We got out of that one by the skin of our teeth but next time we might not be so lucky."

Pizzazz wadded up a dirty napkin and tossed it across the room. "Well, what the hell do we do, Jetta? I ain't kicking Stormer's mushy ass out of this band. What do we do?" she repeated. Her frustration was evident.

Jetta knew that her bandmates had a tendency to see things differently than the rest of the world and turn a blind eye to things they didn't want to deal with. She had to get Pizzazz to want to deal with it. Once their leader bought in, the rest of the group would have to follow suit.

"Pizzazz, I don't have all the answers. I'm as flummoxed as you are about what to do now, and I would never suggest we kick Stormer out. But I can tell you this. We cannot ignore this any longer and just continue to hope that nothing bad happens! We have to do something."

Jetta noticed that Pizzazz was looking at her intently. She could tell that the singer was listening well, and she continued on. "I think that the first thing we need to do is take a look at what happened last night." She paused and then asked, "Do you truly think it was just a coincidence that the Morality Police just happened to pay us a visit before the rock event of the year? Or….did the Stingers set us up?"

"The…the Stingers?" Pizzazz stuttered. "Setting us up? Riot setting me up?"

Jetta wished that Riot and his band had never left Germany. They had caused nothing but chaos for the Misfits. The worst thing was how carefully one had to tread with Pizzazz whenever the subject of Riot was brought up.

"I have been thinking a lot about this. When we first met with them to discuss the idea of a benefit concert, I swear I saw Rapture smirking. She was trying to hide it but I could see that look on her face. And yesterday, after the officers took our tests and said that the Misfits had all passed, I saw a very distinct look on the Stingers' faces. They looked disappointed. Not relieved or happy for us but decidedly disappointed. A bit surprised too, I might add."

"Are you sure about that?" Pizzazz was closing up. "I don't remember them looking disappointed. You got an over-active imagination sometimes, Jetta. You and Roxy were downright paranoid about this concert with the Stingers. You sure you're not just dreaming this all up?"

"Pizzazz, you know perfectly well that I am good at reading people," Jetta said firmly. She had barely touched her salad.

"Okay, fine. But that's not enough evidence that the Stingers set us up. Besides, how would they even have known….about Stormer?"

Jetta sighed. "That I don't know. All I can think of is that Riot has a lot of contacts and there are a lot of people who do whatever he asks. Maybe he has a friend at the Morality Office?" She knew this part was sketchy and wished she had something more concrete to offer Pizzazz.

"But c'mon Jetta, what are the odds of that?" She began, mockingly, "Like he's got a best buddy who's got connections and…." Pizzazz suddenly broke off.

"What is it?" Jetta asked, concerned.

Pizzazz was quiet for a moment or two as the wheels of her brain turned. "Well, I was thinking back to right after we got home from the tour, when I visited that guy my dad knew, the one who had some contacts at the Morality Office. His name was Terry Winters. And he looked up the records of our tests in Chicago, and he said that Stormer's test was noted as being inconclusive."

"Righteo," Jetta said, encouragingly.

"But that's not all. That day I went to see Terry…." Pizzazz groped to recall all the details. It had been a couple months ago now. "I ran into Riot in the building."

"You did?" Jetta gasped. Pizzazz had not mentioned this before. "Pizzazz," she reached over and touched her friend's arm as she spoke with intensity, "you need to remember everything that happened when you two met. Did you talk? What did you say? What did he say?"

Even though it had been a while ago, her interactions with Riot certainly made an impact on her. "He….he asked me why I was back in town," Pizzazz remembered. "That's right! I remember being happy that he remembered our tour dates, and he wondered why our tour ended so soon."

Jetta's face turned pale. "What did you tell him?"

"I don't remember! I think I tried to change the subject. But I remember he asked me who I was there to meet with. And I gave him the guy's name."

Jetta nodded. "The same lad who told us that Stormer's test in Chicago was noted as being inconclusive. Pizzazz, add up the pieces! Riot knew our tour ended early. He might have even rung some the clubs to find out why. If he did, then he knew that we lied since we told people that you had a bad cold. You obviously did not have a cold when he saw you that day. Maybe he went to visit that Terry Winters on his own. For enough money, I'm sure he learned the same thing we did….that something was off with Stormer's test. Riot might even have contacted the office in Chicago to find out more about this inconclusive test. You add that in with an unexpected call for 'unity' from the Stingers, Rapture's smirking at the meeting, and the disappointed looks of that group when we're pronounced okey dokey and what do you have?"

Pizzazz stood up and, letting out a trademark shriek, hurled a nearby vase against the wall. The vase shattered, the fresh flowers tumbling to the floor and spilling water.

Riot once again making a fool of her! Once again manipulating her. Stormer once again causing a very uncertain future for the band! Forces beyond, far beyond, Pizzazz's control conspiring against her. She let loose a string of cuss words. What made matters worse is that Jem and the Holograms knew Stormer's secret as well. Earlier the Misfits had suspected that this was the case, but the events of last evening confirmed that.

"I hate this!" Pizzazz concluded. "I have no fing control over anything anymore!"

"Pizzazz, take a deep breath," Jetta commanded, hoping she didn't sound like a yoga teacher. "And that's not true. We do have some control, but we Misfits have to act instead of just hoping things will turn out our way!" Her voice softened. "You always inspired me to do that. To make my own breaks instead of waiting around."

"Oh quit trying to butter my bread, Jetta! Besides, after the concert yesterday was about all the mushiness I can take."

"I'm not trying to butter your bread," Jetta responded, resolutely. "I mean what I say."

"Yeah, well you always made your own breaks too. That's why I liked your style as soon as I met you," Pizzazz said, in a complimentary tone she used sparingly. "So come on! Let's round up the troops," Pizzazz ordered, sounding much more like herself.

Jetta smiled, both at Pizzazz's praise and the outcome of their talk. Her mission was accomplished. With Pizzazz determined to act, the others would have to go along even lazy, stubborn Roxy.

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I remember once thinking that the Stingers had been the best and the worst thing that ever happened to us. I had that type of mixed feeling about last night as well – it was one of the best evenings for the Misfits but also one that could have been the worst.

But first, back to the Stingers. I say, of course, that they were the worst thing that happened to us because of how they manipulated Pizzazz and took our record company out from under our noses. However, I say they were also the best thing for us because when we reunited with Pizzazz, we came back closer and stronger than ever, both musically and as friends. We did so partly out of necessity, the fact that we had to unite in order to compete with the Stingers. A bittersweet experience, like yesterday's concert.

We had been so glorious yesterday that it was almost easy to forget that the group came within a hair of being publicly humiliated. I don't know if I would have been arrested or not but the publicity that would have resulted had I failed the blood test would have finished off our career. At least for the foreseeable future.

Last night (or technically, during the wee hours of this morning), when I finally reached my bedroom I was so stirred up that I could hardly sleep. Instead I took about half the flowers Pizzazz sent and began to press them out. My mood vacillated between joy and despair. The ecstasy was caused by so many things – the marvelous concert, the exuberant audience, the acceptance that Kimber and Craig had shown me, and the Misfits' toast and hug at the end of the show. But hanging over this happiness like an albatross was fear of uniformed men pricking my finger. Thoughts of a nightmarish stay in Chicago also clouded over the triumphant concert yesterday. It's like I finally had the emotional security I craved from those I loved but my own safety and security could not be guaranteed from society at large.

So I was more relieved than anything when Pizzazz called a meeting the following afternoon. I knew what we were going to discuss, and I hated dealing with this kind of thing. But it could not be ignored any longer.

Pizzazz closed the door to her room, and we pulled up chairs to sit in a semi-circle. I looked around and saw flowers strewn on the floor near a shattered vase. It was the only object I could identify that looked as if it had been broken or thrown. That was a good sign; sometimes her entire room was trashed. She does that less often now though. With the servants' reduced hours, it was often a while before the room could be cleaned. And I heard that her dad had recently chewed her out, giving her another reminder about finances and how expensive it was to replace things.

Roxy yawned and took another sip of her coffee. She hadn't showered yet; she was wearing only her oversized shirt, her hair was skewed, and no make up adorned her face. She also had a lot to drink last night the champagne had just been her starting point. She rubbed her temples and looked displeased. I wondered how bad her hangover was.

"Oh come on, Roxy," Pizzazz said. "It's nearly 3 in the afternoon! Quit acting like I woke you up at 6:00 a.m."

"Did I fing say anything? I didn't say anything!" she griped. Roxy can be quite pleasant when she's not feeling well. "I'm awake, I'm here," she added. She then broke out into a grin. "And did we have an awesome concert last night or what?"

I had to return Roxy's smile. I might sound insane for saying this, but I've always found something so childlike and innocent about her, despite the fact that she appeared tough and fearsome to most others. Her background was about as rough as it gets but I sometimes feel that she's a big teddy bear. Okay, that did sound insane and I'm probably the only person on the planet who sees her this way.

On my way to Pizzazz's room, I'd passed Roxy's. She left the door open as usual and I saw the bouquet of flowers that Pizzazz had given her. It had been left on the crowded dresser. I made a mental note to remind Roxy to find a vase and some water for the flowers.

Pizzazz and Jetta then shared their earlier conversation with us. They presented the evidence they'd compiled suggesting that we had fallen into a Stingers' trap. I was pretty shocked to hear that Pizzazz had run into Riot the day she met with Terry Winters. I wish she'd mentioned it earlier.

"I knew it!" Roxy exclaimed. "I told you that I smelled a rat. And I was right!"

Jetta pointed out, "I said the same thing. But it hardly matters now. We were lucky we got out of that sticky widget yesterday."

"And we can't keep sitting around and hoping for the best!" Pizzazz said. "We Misfits are going to make our own breaks with this one."

I listened and silently debated myself. This was all my fault. Should I offer to leave the band again? No, I had already done so and they had made it clear that no one wanted me to go. Even though I was now a liability to the group; my heart crumpled a bit at the thought but it was true. Should I apologize again? No, I already did that too and it had not gone over well. Besides, I didn't think they wanted me to do any of that. Everything they were saying and doing was indicating that we were going to handle this as a team. Despite everything, I still had to keep reassuring myself of that fact.

"The first thing I think we should do is contact Techrat," Pizzazz stated.

"Techrat?" I asked. Now there was a name from the past. I don't think I had seen or heard from the man since we called our truce with Jem and the Holograms. We really had no need for him since we weren't out to get the other band anymore.

"Of course!" Jetta exclaimed. "Bloody brilliant, Pizzazz."

"Uh-huh," Pizzazz nodded. "If there's anyone we can use to break into the computers of that stupid Morality Office, find out all we can about the blood test, find out how to beat it – it's him."

"Yeah, but we sure we can trust him?" Roxy asked. "Do we even know what rock he's crawled under?"

Everyone confirmed that Techrat had been out of sight since prior to the truce. "But as for trusting him," Pizzazz began, "I don't think that would be a problem."

"He never snitched on us before," I said. "He sure had enough evidence of stuff we were doing to get at Jem, but he never turned us in."

"Yeah, 'cuz Eric paid him well," Roxy said. "Gave him the money he needed so he could keep making his gadgets and crap. And no one would've believed him against us with all of Pizzazz's dad's money and lawyers on our side." She paused and said, "Times are different now."

I nodded. Roxy was right.

Pizzazz shrugged. "We still got money. If he needs hush money again, then he gets some. If we need lawyers again, we can still get them."

We decided to begin looking for Techrat by paying a visit to his old warehouse. It wasn't too far. We agreed that we would leave in an hour, giving Roxy some time to get ready.

As we filed out of Pizzazz's room, the singer stopped me. "Oh, Stormer," she began, in a commanding tone of voice. "One thing I want to tell you."

I turned to look at her. We were now alone in her room. She had the "Empress" look on her face, which is a term I used to myself when Pizzazz was in her commanding cross-me-and-you-die mode.

She spoke, "Jetta mentioned to me that you visited a lesbian bar the other day. You can't do that stuff anymore. It's too risky. There might be undercover Morality Officers at those places and you can't risk getting caught. That would ruin us."

I couldn't claim surprise because I knew Jetta would mention it to Pizzazz. I also couldn't really disagree with Pizzazz. What I had done was terribly risky; it's just that I was so desperate to spend some time with this group of people to which I belonged. But I didn't see any way I could make Pizzazz understand that, and my fear of discovery won out.

"You're right," I said. "I'll stay away from the bars."

"Maybe we can think of another way to get you some action," she said. "Though I have no idea how."

I smiled and tried to make a joke. "Maybe Techrat knows a nice girl he can hook me up with."

Pizzazz actually laughed, which was good.

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The Misfits opted not to drive their van to Techrat's old lair. Instead, they took one of Pizzazz's more non-descript cars. Pizzazz hoped that she could remember the way but she was not about to ask one of the others if she was still going in the right direction.

"It looks abandoned," Jetta observed when they came upon the warehouse where Techrat lived and worked.

"It always looked abandoned before," Roxy said.

Jetta threw her a sour look. But Roxy was right. Even in its heyday, Techrat's warehouse had been surrounded by dying trees, a boarded-up garage, and copious litter. Tall buildings loomed in the distance. The Misfits got out of the car and approached the foreboding, bulbous warehouse with antennae shooting upwards.

"This brings back memories," Stormer whispered, though she couldn't say why she was whispering. She also couldn't say that most of the memories were fond ones. However, she did always have a very small soft spot for Techrat. He was a fellow freak. Sometimes a small voice inside Stormer whispered that they were both geniuses as well – Techrat in the technology arena, and Stormer the musical.

Pizzazz rapped on the door. There was silence for several moments. Pizzazz knocked again. "Techrat, you in there?" she yelled.

"If he's in there, he's gotta know we're standin' here," Roxy said. "You can bet he's got a camera on this door."

The creaky door slowly opened. "How right you are, Roxy," spoke a raspy voice heard over an intercom.

"Oh cut with the drama, Techrat," Pizzazz said, walking through the open doorway into the darkness. Her bandmates followed her into the warehouse.

Once through the dark foyer, the Misfits needed time for their eyes to adjust to the brighter lights inside. When they could see clearly, it appeared that nothing had changed. The Misfits were standing inside a huge space crammed with electronic devices, chock full of computers and monitors, wires crisscrossing this way and that, and various other gadgets. Techrat sat at his workstation, wearing his familiar grey jacket. He looked the same as always; the only change Pizzazz could detect was that his hair was slightly longer. His head was still shaven on one side though.

"Well it's nice to see that despite how much things have changed outside, in here it's business as usual," Pizzazz remarked.

"Where's Eric Raymond?" Techrat rasped. "I haven't heard from him or received a payment for months."

Now there was a change, Pizzazz noted. She couldn't recall Techrat ever asking too many questions or mentioning money. As with Pizzazz herself, money was not his focus.

"He took off," Pizzazz said. "We haven't heard from him either." She paused and added, "But if you need money, we've got a job for you."

Suddenly the hairs on the back of Roxy's neck stood up. She thought back to the Misfits' earlier conversation in Pizzazz's room and felt again a stab of doubt as to whether they could trust Techrat now. Sure, he'd never turned them in before but times were so different back then. Besides, she thought, this band just got burned by trusting Riot. She looked around the room and doubted whether she could trust anyone in this world other than herself and her three bandmates.

Pizzazz and Techrat talked through the particulars. Pizzazz refrained from telling why they wanted to access the government files, and Techrat didn't ask. He told the group that he already had access to some Morality Office systems but not their more confidential records.

"I can try though. It's going to take some time."

"Well then get busy," Pizzazz demanded. She laid a stack of bills down on Techrat's workstation.

"Is it dangerous?" Jetta asked warily. "Can they tell that you're snooping around?"

"Where the Morality Office is concerned, it is always dangerous," Techrat said.

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When we returned to the mansion, there was a package for me. I approached it with some trepidation until I saw that it hailed from one of the leading florists.

I unwrapped the bouquet and dived for the note. It said.

_Mary,_

_Just wanted to say how awesome you are. _

_Love, _

_Craig_

I nearly squealed with happiness. I knew this was Craig's way of reassuring me, of again communicating that what he'd learned about me yesterday didn't make him care for me any less. I realized how rare a brother like Craig was. I also hoped that Aja fully appreciated what she had.

And for me, two bouquets in two days! Very exciting for someone who loves flowers and craves being appreciated.

"A gift from someone you met at the bar?" Roxy teased, as she walked by the foyer where I stood with the flowers.

"Nah. They're from my brother."

"Huh," was Roxy's reply. I remembered what I'd learned about her not long ago, the fact that she had an older half-brother. But it sounded like they barely knew each other, and again I was thankful for Craig.

I heard a shriek from Pizzazz, emanating from one of the living rooms. At first I was alarmed, until I realized that this type of yelp was actually her victory screech, not a distress call. Roxy and I entered the room to find Pizzazz and Jetta combing through newspapers.

"Marvelous!" Pizzazz exclaimed.

"The coverage of the concert," Jetta explained.

Roxy and I sat down and perused the headlines. Indeed, the media coverage was sensational. Several great pictures of us and smashing reviews of the show. Not one hatchet-job on us either.

"We gotta make sure that we tape all the TV footage too," I reminded the group.

"That's right!" Jetta said. "I nearly forgot. Clash used to do all that."

Just as with Techrat, we hadn't had contact with Clash for quite some time. Clash had slowly dug her own grave with this band. First she (unintentionally, I assume) rubbed in our faces how close she and her father were. (Not a good idea for a band where all the members, especially the leader, had family problems). She then let slip her desire to join the Misfits. Once she did that, we pretty much closed ranks against her. And finally, she'd failed to come through one too many times on her plans to bring down Jem and the Holograms and Video. Her last stand involved a deal where she promised to air a video that would humiliate Jem and the Holograms on live TV in exchange for being allowed to join the Misfits. (Though I doubt that Pizzazz was going to hold up her end of the bargain here.) The plan backfired, to say the least, and the final nail was hammered into Clash's coffin. The last few times she'd tried to see us, Pizzazz had refused her. None of us had heard from her for ages.

I'd never been crazy about Clash. When she first began to hang out with us, it seemed for a short while that Pizzazz liked her better than me and I worried about being squeezed out of the group's inner circle. It wasn't just that, though. All I can say is that her personality didn't "gel" with mine and I never felt an affinity for her.

However, as Jetta had implied, Clash was useful at times. Her schemes usually failed but she regularly presented us with these gorgeous scrapbooks of magazine and newspaper clippings. She'd give us collages of our pictures. She tracked down concert photographers, selected the best shots, had them enlarged, framed, and then bestowed them upon us. For a second or two I actually felt a tug of sadness.

Roxy shrugged. "Ain't nothin' we can't do ourselves. Let's turn that TV on."

Later on in the evening, Pizzazz went out. Jetta pulled Roxy and me together.

"Now's our chance," she began. "Remember yesterday we agreed that we'd buy her a gift as a thank you? For the bouquets she sent us."

"Yes!" I said. "That is a great idea. Do you still want to maybe get her a piece of jewelry?"

Jetta held out an advertisement from a local jewelry store. "Look at these gorgeous necklaces and bracelets. Let's pay them a visit and see what they have on offer."

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Aja and Craig went out jogging the afternoon following the concert. After their jog, they stopped at a take out place, and then headed back to the Phillips house to watch a rented movie and eat.

Craig had two messages waiting for him when he returned. One was from Stormer, profusely thanking him for the flowers. The other was from the band leader of the group he'd auditioned for. With the music scene floundering, Craig had auditioned to play in a group that made its living by performing recognizable pop tunes at weddings and other formal occasions. It was a far cry from the type of rock band he wanted to be in.

"Well, I have a job now," Craig said, sounding as enthusiastic as one normally gets over a root canal.

"That's fantastic!" Aja said.

"I guess so," Craig said, bringing Aja a drink as he seated himself next to her on the sofa.

"C'mon, it's honest work. Be proud of it," she encouraged. She took a sip of her soda.

"I am. Maybe now that I have a job I can take you somewhere nice."

"You did take me somewhere nice. I had a great time at the park – and at everything today. There's nothing I'd rather be doing."

Craig smiled, once again realizing what a rare jewel held his heart. Many young women – especially those who had traveled all around the world playing in a famous rock band – would have been less than impressed spending time on a date jogging at a park, eating take out, and watching a rented movie.

"Have I mentioned lately that I am the luckiest guy in the world?" Craig asked.

Aja smiled. She then said, mischievously, "Well I have to confess to you, Craig that I lied just now when I said there was nothing I'd rather be doing. I can think of one thing."

She reached for him and pulled him into a kiss. As their lips caressed each other's, Aja felt her knees shake. The practical, rational mind inside of her floated away happily, to be replaced by a passionate woman. This new territory was both frightening and alluring. She lost herself in the kisses.

It had been almost a relief for Aja, in a strange sort of way, when Craig had left for England and not joined the Holograms. The feelings were so intense and scary for her as her psyche traveled down unexplored paths.

After several delightful moments, the rational mind returned and Aja abruptly pulled away from the kisses.

"Sorry," Craig began, "I didn't mean to – "

"No, no, you're fine," Aja stammered. "It's just that I…You know, I'm a – "

"It's okay," he replied softly. "I understand."

Aja remembered some sage advice she had received from Shana. Anthony had been Shana's first serious relationship, just as Craig was Aja's. As one of the few people who could draw out the quiet Shana, Aja had been lucky to receive her friend's insights one day. He can't read your mind,' Shana's voice rang out inside Aja's head. And you can't read his. You gotta talk about the hard stuff. Doing that actually helps bring you closer.'

"You know, maybe we should talk about this a bit," Aja said. "It's so easy to talk to you about pretty much anything. I just wanted to say that I feel really close to you in every way. I'm happy with the way our relationship is going." She paused. "I've never been in a relationship before, and I'm just not ready for anything… deeper yet." As she spoke, she glanced in the direction of the hallway which led to the bedrooms.

"Aja, I care about you very much. I respect you and your wishes," Craig said, intently. "I won't pressure you for anything you're not ready for."

Aja smiled. "Now which one of us is the lucky one?" she asked, dreamily.

"I still say it's me," Craig smiled back. He then looked down before meeting her eyes again, "Hey, um, speaking of stuff that's hard to talk about. Should we talk about what happened at the concert yesterday?"

"We probably should," Aja replied, with the same amount of enthusiasm that Craig had for his new gig. She wondered if maybe heading back in the direction of discussing sex would have been easier.

"A while ago I promised you that I'd never again ask you for Jem's real identity. And I won't break that promise," he committed. He paused and then said, "I get the idea that somehow what happened yesterday with Mary is connected to that, though. Like somehow Jem had the ability to fake out everyone and make it appear as though someone else was my sister for a period of time."

Aja sighed. She met his gaze. "Craig, I wish I could tell you more than that, but I can't."

"And…once again, I won't pressure you into doing something you're not ready for. I was also thinking of something though. Mary used to – apparently think that if I found out she was gay, the world would stop turning or at the very least that I'd stop caring about her. She was wrong about that. You might be wrong about not telling me this."

"That may be so," Aja admitted. "But part of the problem is that the secret's not mine to give away. Or, at the very least, it's not mine alone."

"Well, can I ask you this? Do I need to be worried about it? About you?"

Aja shook her head. "No, I don't think so. Jem and the Holograms have managed this situation for years. We'll be fine. Besides….I can take care of myself."

"I've noticed," he said, admiringly.

Aja smiled at the compliment and then took a sip of her drink. "You know, Craig, if you are going to be worried about someone…." she let her voice trail off. "I'm a bit worried about Stormer. What happened with the authorities at the concert. Who says it won't happen again?"

"I know," Craig said glumly. "I know, and I have no idea what to do."

"If we're ever in a situation where we can help again like we did yesterday, we will. But we're not usually there."

"I'm going to talk to Mary about this," he resolved.

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The following day, Pizzazz walked down the grand hallway and headed towards the dining room for lunch. She noticed a small box sitting at her place at the head of the table. It was festively wrapped with shiny paper and decorated with a red bow. The other Misfits watched her.

"What the hell is this?" she asked, as she tore off the wrapping paper. She tossed it onto the floor and ripped the lid off the box.

Inside was a bracelet made of white gold, boasting lush green emeralds that matched the glint in Pizzazz's eyes. The bracelet sparkled brightly.

"It's from us, luv," Jetta smiled. "The three of us."

"We thought that since you gave us flowers at the concert, we should also get you a little gift," Stormer added.

"Great, just great," Pizzazz muttered sarcastically, as she put the bracelet around her wrist. Roxy got up to assist her with the clasp. "Is there a sappy card that goes along with it? Maybe I oughtta dye my hair pink given how schmaltzy we're gettin' with each other."

"Yeah!" Roxy laughed. "And we can do songs about reading and playin' fair!"

"And we can adopt homeless orphans and raise them!" Stormer contributed.

Jetta giggled, her eyes wide. "Maybe we can even be reinstated as virgins!"

The band nearly fell down laughing. And the others knew that Pizzazz was pleased with the gesture; playfully mocking it was one way she'd demonstrated that. If she hadn't liked the gift or the gesture, she would've screamed and thrown the bracelet out the window.

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Two days after the concert, Riot paced the floor of his lavish penthouse apartment. Minx and Rapture sat on the sofa, watching him move around.

"I can't believe it. Our plan failed," Riot seethed. He walked in front of the apartment's fake fireplace. An abstract painting with shades of yellow and black adorned the space above the mantle.

Minx was filing her nails, and she shook her head with mock disgust. She wasn't too upset though. She and one of the reporters she'd met that evening had hit it off well.

"There has to be something we can do to get at them. Look at the members of that band," Riot continued. He counted them off on his fingers. "They have that illegitimate member; that Brit who hasn't ever even tried to become a US citizen unlike what you're doing, Minx; Pizzazz who's had more one-night stands than you can count; and that damn lesbian!"

"Well, as it stands right now, only the last one is considered a crime by the Morality Office. The others aren't yet," Rapture said glumly. She hated seeing Riot so upset.

"I do hope we frazzled them by sending those officers to the mansion before the concert," she added, referring to the officers who had investigated Roxy and placed her name in a database tracking those whose parents were not married.

"They're so dense that it didn't even tip them off," Minx chuckled. She then turned serious and added, "But Riot, who cares about the Misfits? Why are you wasting so much energy on them?"

"We've discussed this before," responded an irritated Riot. It wasn't appropriate for Minx to question his decisions. "Our band is clearly superior, but we want the Misfits out of the way when the economy recovers. It would mean one fewer band to compete with on airplay, ticket sales, and record sales. In fact, given how poor the economy is now, the sooner they are out of the way, the better. Our show last night may have been a media triumph but in terms of sales figures it was not. The Gen Corp Arena wasn't even sold out."

"I agree, Riot," Rapture contributed. "Let's get them out of the way. It will be fun to see Pizzazz and the others taken down a notch or two." She paused. "But there's one thing I don't understand. Stormer passed the blood test before the concert."

"I don't understand how she did that," Riot said, shaking his head. "The officer I spoke to in Chicago was certain it was her. There are a lot of women named Mary Phillips but when I showed him her picture, he was positive that she was the one. He swore up and down that she failed the test. And I can tell when someone is lying."

"Well, did you ever see the test result or the sample itself from Chicago?" Rapture asked.

"No. Both were destroyed – they destroy them after a while and the only thing they keep is the report, which said that Stormer's test was inconclusive."

Rapture leaned forward in her seat and began, gently, "Riot, are you sure that that officer wasn't lying or maybe confused? I mean, Stormer sure doesn't look or act like a gay woman to me."

"I am certain that I am right. After all, am I not Riot?" he asked, his voice rising in intensity. "Our chance to embarrass the Misfits and get rid of those nuisances once and for all is gone."

Riot had nothing against gay people in general Gay men made up a large portion of his fan base, and he bore them no ill will. They were permitted to worship him from afar, as could any other fan. It was the Misfits that Riot wanted out of the picture, and a public scandal seemed such an easy and convenient way to bring them down.

Prior to their blood tests on the night of the concert, Minx and Rapture had been privately tested just to ensure that they would pass. The Stingers occasionally all shared a bed together, experiencing each other's erotic attentions. Whatever behavior Minx and Rapture might have engaged in for Riot's pleasure was not due to any orientation that could be detected in their DNA.

"I'm certain that something's not adding up here," Riot continued as he walked towards his massive desk. He retrieved his leather-bound address book from one of the drawers. "I am going to pay another visit to my friend at the LA office. Maybe I can look at the blood samples from the concert myself."

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"Jerrica, do you mind if I make a long distance phone call from here? I'll pay Starlight House back for the costs."

Raya approached Jerrica early one morning. She reached the president of Starlight Music as she was hurrying through a breakfast consisting of dry toast and fruit. Raya was glad she'd caught her. She knew that Jerrica would soon be heading out for a long day at the office, before returning to Starlight House for a practice session as Jem with the Holograms that evening.

"Sure thing, Raya," Jerrica replied. Hunched over financial statements, she looked up briefly to smile at the drummer. "Oh, and you certainly don't need to pay Starlight House back for the cost. Are you calling a relative in Mexico?"

Raya nodded. "I'll keep it short. I know we need to watch every penny nowadays."

"Don't worry about it," Jerrica said. Raya glanced at the numbers on the spreadsheet that Jerrica had been examining and knew that balance sheets and financial returns weighed heavily on her friend's mind. Raya herself did not have Jerrica's financial aptitude and felt glad that she did not have to run a record company.

Raya couldn't make the call from her parents' house, despite the fact that they had a calling plan used for reaching relatives in Mexico. She wanted privacy for this call, and the small Alonso abode did not afford much in the way of solitude, especially now that one of her brothers had taken up residence in her old room.

Later, Raya resolved that she would pay Starlight House back for the call. She and her cousin Humberto had spent nearly a half hour on the phone, despite Raya's determination to keep the call brief. She had not spoken with her cousin since she was about 11 or 12. She realized that his life was not exactly the lonely wasteland she had envisioned it since he had come out and been disowned by the rest of the family. He had a loving partner and a small circle of friends, and a few of his blood relatives even made covert trips to socialize with them.

The Holograms' drummer silently thanked Stormer for giving her the catalyst she needed to initiate contact with Humberto.

TO BE CONTINUED

Please leave a review or send feedback. Your comments are appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

**SURVIVAL OF THE MISFITS**

By Stormkeeper

Disclaimer:

All characters © Hasbro Inc. and Sunbow Entertainment. I'm not making any money off of this and this is done purely for fan entertainment.

Author's notes: 

A huge thank you to Denisia and Severine for beta-testing! Somehow when I posted chapter one, I neglected to thank my fantastic beta testers.

**CHAPTER TWO**

"So how was your date?" Kimber asked Aja. The two friends sat on the floor of Starlight House's spacious workout room. Both wore bright leotards and tights. Aja had also donned her favorite leg warmers. Kimber was lacing up her aerobic shoes, and Aja was stretching her hamstrings.

Aja was surprised to see that her friend had arrived early. Often Aja prepared and stretched alone, or in the company of Jerrica, Shana, or Raya. Class was not scheduled to begin for nearly twenty minutes.

"It was wonderful," Aja said. She tried to say the words evenly.

Kimber bit her lip to keep from breaking out into an amused smile. Ever since Craig had returned, Aja's behavior demonstrated subtle tweaks. She smiled more often. She showed up late to a practice session and even had trouble learning the chords for the newest song. Kimber even noticed Aja sneaking off to Shana's room at odd hours, presumably for some girl talk.

"What did you do?"

"Well, we…." Aja began, "you know, it doesn't matter so much what we do on the dates." She couldn't explain why she stopped herself. She had an inkling that Kimber would be less than impressed with how their activities sounded on paper. It wasn't jogging or renting a copy of "Mr Mom" that made the date special.

"What matters is how you and Craig feel about each other," Kimber said, smiling.

Aja nodded, reminding herself to give Kimber more credit. The sensitive lyricist rivaled anyone when it came to perceptivity.

"I was saying to Shana the other day how strange it feels to be falling in love," Aja began conspiratorially

Kimber's ears felt delighted. One did not hear Aja talk like this every day.

"It's almost like going insane," Aja continued. "I don't think as clearly as I used to. There are a few times lately where I thought that if he asked me to marry him, I would in a second. But I know that's crazy! He's only been back a couple months. We need more time to get to know each other."

"It's so cool to see you like this, Aja," Kimber smiled. "You remember when Shana fell for Anthony?"

"Yes. But she always kept such a cool head about her. She's so steady. No one looking at her would've known what was going on inside her heart – except for us, but only 'cause we knew her too well. Why can't I be like that?" Aja asked.

"You got it bad, girl!" Kimber shifted position so that she sat with her legs in front of her, toes pointed. She reached forward to grasp the tops of her shoes, giving her legs a good stretch. "Do you think it'll be weird with his sister being a Misfit?"

"Sometimes I think that it should be, but it's really not. I don't feel that there's anything wrong with the situation. Of course this is Stormer we're talking about if it was one of the three witches instead, I think we'd be talking about a different story here," she said wryly. She then said, off-hand, "Thank goodness for that truce."

Aja stood up and did some lunges, bringing her arms along with the movement to stretch out her sides.

"Speaking of Stormer, that was a really close call at the concert," Aja said. "What you did was dangerous for you. And for our group, and Synergy, if we'd been discovered." Her voice contained no traces of reprimand, only concern.

"I know, but I had no choice. I couldn't let them arrest her. It would've destroyed her," Kimber said. Her mood turned sour at thoughts of the conversation with her sister that had followed late that night. "Jerrica and I talked about it and she said the same thing. We're lucky that we didn't get discovered."

"And Stormer's lucky too. What if you hadn't been there to help? The Morality Officers would've found out that she's gay, and she could've gone to jail." Aja shook her head. "We might have to worry for ourselves too someday. The Department of Communications reviewing song lyrics and telling us which ones we can perform in concert and which ones we can't. And I heard rumors that we might even have trouble getting permission to travel – because we're unmarried women. Something's gotta be done about all this." Aja knew she was getting worked up. Her aerobics would be more spirited than usual today, fueled along by anger.

"I know. But what can we do? We can't just like solve this one by playing a benefit concert like we used to! It's like there's not much we can do against that Morality Office since they're so powerful. I keep hoping things will go back to the way they were before."

"I do too but –"

Aja saw movement out of the corner of her eye. She saw Raya enter the workout room accompanied by Deirdre and Terri. But during the span of a split second, she'd seen something else too. Ashley had been standing silently by the door. Raya and the others greeted her; clearly Ashley had not come down with them. Aja wondered how long Ashley had been watching and listening.

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Our successful concert led to another coveted TV appearance for the band. We got the call that they wanted all four of us at the studio to do a profile. We knew the host; he'd interviewed us before. (And he totally had a crush on Roxy). When we got there, he asked if they could film some footage of us riding around on motorcycles.

We loved the idea, of course. The producers said they wanted to bring out our image of being the "Bad Girls of Rock n Roll." Pizzazz, Roxy, and Jetta looked positively delighted – both at the appellation and at the chance to ride at fast speeds. (And truth be told, I kinda like being a bad girl too). All three of them wanted to ride their own bikes. I wasn't in the mood for driving this time, so Pizzazz ordered me to get behind her on her motorcycle.

I stifled a smile, thinking back to a memory from a few years ago. We were visiting Venice Beach and decided to make a grand entrance for our beach-side interview by roaring around the beach on four-wheelers, causing havoc before driving right up to our interviewers. Back at the rental place, a bit of a spat had erupted.

"Hurry up you two!" Pizzazz had yelled.

I'd already gotten on behind Pizzazz on her bike, but Roxy and Jetta were quarreling. (So what else was new? Especially back then). Both of them wanted to ride their own bikes but the rental place only had the two vehicles. Somehow Roxy won that fight and got in the driver's seat. Then she and Jetta started snipping because they didn't want to have to share the same bike, and they started demanding that I switch places with Jetta.

"Shut your mouths this instant!" Pizzazz had demanded. "And quit making such a big deal out of it. Sheesh, you're not going to marry the person you're sharing the damn bike with!"

Pizzazz really has this great sense of humor, you know.

Anyway, our motorcycling went well this time as did the post-concert interview. When we got back to the mansion and watched the show though, we found that they had cut out all the motorcycle scenes. The studio interview was there but all that footage of us riding around had been removed. Roxy called the host and asked what happened. He said that their internal controls department had axed the scenes, fearing that airing shots of women riding motorcycles could cause trouble with the Department of Communications.

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Then to make matters worse, Techrat called the next day. I didn't get to talk to him since he spoke with Pizzazz only.

Pizzazz reported that Techrat didn't yet have any information on the blood test, where it's being required, or how to fool it. "The only thing he was able to find so far was how this city's treating people who fail it," Pizzazz reported. She glanced in my direction as she spoke. I was shocked to see hesitancy on her face.

Apparently Techrat discovered that some people who failed the blood tests have been sent to jail. Some had been released quickly while others remained awaiting trial. Drug use is, of course, illegal so it wasn't too big of a surprise that those whose tests show that they are using would go to jail. Techrat didn't know whether those who failed the test for other reasons were being sent to jail or not, but he said it seemed possible from what he could gather.

He was going to continue his research. I was a bit numb for the rest of that day.

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Craig entered the Gabor mansion and surveyed the expansive entrance hall. He could understand why his sister enjoyed living here. As James, the butler went to fetch Mary, Craig looked around. He had expected the foyer to dazzle him with a sparkling chandelier, brilliant paintings, priceless heirlooms, and glimpses of nearby rooms with posh furniture. It did indeed boast those items. But the mansion also appeared unkempt. Craig noticed that the floor could use a sweeping. He walked over to a table made of teak that presented several antiques, and noticed the dust.

"There you are!" a voice called.

Craig smiled at seeing his sister and reached for a hug. As usual she held on tightly.

"I'm so glad you finally came to see the place," Stormer said

He broke off the hug. "Though I gather that a full tour would take most of the day."

"More or less," Stormer admitted.

Stormer led her brother down a hallway, beginning an abbreviated tour of the estate.

"It's like a ghost town," Craig observed, as his sister led him from room to room. They had not encountered any servants during the tour. "She's got all this space, all this furniture, and it's like no one sees it."

"The butler and one or two other servants would be on duty now," Stormer said. "But we usually don't run into them. It's not like they can hang out in the rec room playing Frogger."

"How many people do live here? Just you and the other Misfits?'

"Yeah. And Pizzazz's father but we hardly ever see him. Maybe once a month or so. He has an office here but he prefers his office tower in LA, and I heard Pizzazz once say that he's got an apartment there."

"He lives for his work."

"Definitely. But you know, I actually prefer our family's quaint ranch to all this."

"But your good-for-nothing brother's shacking up there for the time being," he joked.

Stormer playfully swatted at him for his sarcasm, as they entered a new hallway. Craig's head spun. If it weren't for his tour guide, he would not have been able to find his way back to the front entrance.

"This is the wing where our rooms are," Stormer said as they walked towards her room. She pointed out Roxy and Jetta's rooms as they passed them. None of the other Misfits were present at this time. They had invited Stormer on their shopping trip but she turned them down in favor of having Craig finally visit the mansion.

"Do they live here full time?" Craig asked.

"They do now. Roxy had her own apartment for a while but she gave it up a couple years ago. May've been longer ago than that. She never stayed there much anyway. And Jetta's lived here since the day she joined the band."

She opened the door to her room and let Craig in. The first thing he noticed were the two flower bouquets adorning the dressing table of the tidy room.

"Hey, you got someone other than me sending you flowers!" Craig exclaimed, with mock surprise.

"They're from Pizzazz. And thank you again for your bouquet. Sorry about how picked-apart they both look. I'm pressing out the best ones to add to my collection."

"Pizzazz gave you flowers?" he asked, quizzically. He was still stuck on Stormer's first sentence; the subsequent ones hadn't registered.

"She sent them to all three of us before the benefit concert the other night. A kind of gesture sending us well-wishes and good-luck."

"Hmm. I wonder who gave her the idea."

"I think she thought of it herself. She's really not as bad as you think," Stormer insisted. She and her brother exchanged a look. Neither wanted to fire up the old argument about Stormer being in the Misfits. It was not an argument that Craig was willing to concede either, though he did admit that he was surprised at some recent Misfit behavior.

"Well it was nice of her to do that for the big show," came Craig's reply. He seated himself on a comfortable recliner, as Stormer sat on the bed. "And speaking of the show," he began, his tone changing, "I think we should talk more about what happened."

For an unreasonable split second, Stormer's stomach lurched. Now that Craig had more time to think about it, had he decided that he didn't want a lesbian sister? Was he going to tell her to change or get out of his life? Stormer fought back the taunting voice in her head that posed those questions, as her gut told her that was rubbish. She was able to sense the true meaning of Craig's question.

"You mean about the officers testing us," Stormer stated.

Craig nodded. "I'm really worried, Mary. What if they come up with a plan for testing all entertainers regularly? Aja told me that song lyrics are going to have to be reviewed before a band can cut an album. Things are getting so restrictive now, it's hard to know where they'll stop."

Stormer once again felt the naked fear rise in her gut. Her concern over rejection by her brother had faded, only to be replaced by something no less hideous but in a different way. Fear began to gnaw on her innards. The anxiety was the type that made her forget about eating or sleeping, and not want to do anything other than run for her keyboards and compose. Anytime she thought about Chicago – and now, about the blood test before the big concert – these feelings arose inside of her. She also had to deal with the suffocating sense of helplessness.

"What are we going to do about this in the long run?" he asked.

"I don't know," Stormer replied. "I – I did hear that some people who fail the test are being sent to jail, and it might not just be drug users getting sent to jail. It might be people who fail the test…for being gay." She looked down at her hands folded in her lap, knowing her face was changing color again. "I can't say I'm surprised – I feared as much on the night of the concert. Did Aja tell you anything more about how her group…did what they did? Fooled the officers?"

"No. She told me that she couldn't tell me any details."

"Kimber said the same thing to me."

"I really wonder what it is," Craig said, tilting his head upwards. "It's so intriguing when you think about it."

"I know. I've always gotten the idea that that band has…an edge. I can't explain it any more than that. Like they have some sort of almost-magical abilities."

Craig made a face. "I highly doubt they're dressing in black robes and standing around a cauldron, cooking up spells."

Stormer giggled, "Though it would be hilarious if they were!"

Craig smiled and shook his head. "Isn't it amazing to think that at one point each of us came close to joining their band?"

Stormer nodded. She also declined to correct her brother's statement about her "nearly" joining Jem and the Holograms. Had the Misfits not entreated her to return, Stormer may very well have joined the Holograms but it was far from being a done deal. She chased those memories away, glad that she'd chosen to remain a Misfit. Craig, however, had come much closer to once joining the Holograms.

"Yeah we would've been standing at the cauldron with them!" Stormer joked. She enjoyed this teasing banter as it chased away the more serious concerns at hand. But she sobered up quickly, remembering her conversation with the other Misfits the day after the concert and looking at the worry in Craig's eyes.

"I know what you're saying though," she said, seriously. "Jem and the Holograms may or may not be able to help us – help me – next time the Morality Office decides to pay me a visit." She took a breath before continuing. "There is something I wanted to mention to you though. We Misfits are working on this. Pizzazz called a meeting after the concert the others were really concerned about me." She chose to emphasize that fact and felt a tug of satisfaction as she saw it register on Craig's face. "We have a plan," she concluded. "Sorta."

"What are you going to do?"

"Now, Craig, you have to promise to keep this secret. Please, don't mention it to Aja or to anyone. But there's this…guy we know, named Techrat. He -"

"Techrat?" Craig echoed.

"Techrat. No idea what his real name is. But he's this computer genius. He's helped us out before, and he's the one who found out about some of the people who failed the test going to jail. We went to see him the day after the concert, and he's agreed to try to break into the Morality Office's computer systems, to find out what..."

"Break into their computers? Mary! This doesn't sound safe at all to me. I mean, are you sure you can trust this Techrat? What if he gets caught?"

Stormer once again felt the anxiety knife twisting inside her entrails. "I don't know! Craig, I just don't know," she repeated, slumping her head into her hands.

When Stormer lifted her head once more, Craig could see the telltale redness around her eyes and the quivering lips. He got up off the recliner and sat next to her, putting an arm around her. The main reason for his visit today had been to impress upon Stormer the need to be vigilant and to map out a plan of action for dealing with the Morality Office. He could now see that Stormer, who sometimes didn't want to deal with uncomfortable items, understood the seriousness of her predicament. But neither sibling knew how to handle it.

"Hey, hey…we're going to be alright," he murmured soothingly.

"I have no idea what to do if Techrat fails, or gets caught, or if he betrays us. And even if none of that happens, I have no idea what to do with the rest of the information he might find out. I don't think any of it's going to be good." Stormer's voice shook but she was winning her battle against tears.

Craig nodded and tried to remain calm. "Maybe what we do is map out a back-up plan. We would use it if we were left with no other choice. Maybe we need to think about a way for you to go into hiding or leave the country if you have to. I know that this is really awful to think about, and I hate the idea of having to think this way. I'm just suggesting that we have a back up. I wouldn't know where to start though."

"I would," Stormer realized. "Roxy. And Jetta. Both of them have a ton of street smarts. If something like that ever happened…if I ever needed to go into hiding, they could help."

"Really?" Craig asked. "But Jetta's not even from here. How would she "

"Oh, she figured out the lay of the land here pretty quickly. Right after she joined the band, she plotted out the scheme to intimidate Raya's family. She was the one who found the thugs and got them to…." Stormer stopped talking, realizing that her words were not helping her convince her brother of her bandmates' worth.

Craig was shaking his head at Jetta's misdeeds. Stormer looked at him and opened her mouth, but then closed it realizing that there was no point in making excuses. What was done was done. Jetta's actions had been wrong, reprehensible even. Trying to explain it away wouldn't help or change the fact that it had happened.

"Roxy's pretty smart about this kind of stuff too, even though she's not from LA either," Stormer continued. "Maybe that combined with Pizzazz's money…" she let her voice trail off.

Craig nodded. "So maybe what we need is a back up plan to get you, under cover, to Mexico. Something like that. The thought of having to do this someday makes me ill, but it would be better than jail."

"Okay," he continued. "This might work out then. Now, about Roxy and Jetta's street smarts – and Pizzazz's money. They would really come in handy but are you sure they'd help you? Do you think they'd buy into our back-up plan?"

Stormer smiled. "C'mon, Craig, give them more credit. I can't believe you're asking this. I am one hundred percent positive that they will help – in any way they can."

Craig expressed his satisfaction with that, but Stormer looked at her brother's face and saw that he was not completely convinced. She disregarded that for the moment and brought up another piece of information.

"There's something else you should know," she began. "We're convinced that Riot set us up. That he's responsible for the Morality Officers' surprise visit at the concert."

"Really? Why do you think that?"

Stormer explained the rationale behind their suspicions. She also supplied Craig with some of the history between the Stingers and the Misfits, so that he would understand the fact that there really was no love lost between the two bands.

When she finished, she asked, "Do you think Jem and the Holograms also suspect that?"

"I don't know. I haven't discussed it with Aja."

"I wonder what she might think of it," Stormer said, shrugging. "I'm pretty sure Riot did set us up and I wonder if she might agree when she hears all the evidence."

"The pieces do seem to add up this way," Craig acknowledged. He had never really met Riot or spent any time with him. Aja had only mentioned him a few times and it was obvious that she didn't think too highly of him or his band. "I'll mention it to Aja."

A knock sounded at the door. "Hey, Stormer, you in there?" Pizzazz's demanding tone burst through. Craig listened to her voice wondering again how and why the Misfits had so many fans. As a musician, he appreciated the music that his sister composed and recognized its greatness, but he didn't view Pizzazz's singing voice as anything special and her speaking voice was downright irritating as far as he was concerned.

"Right here," Stormer called.

Without further preamble, the door to Stormer's room was opened and Pizzazz, Roxy, and Jetta entered. Each carried only one shopping bag, which surprised Stormer. Oftentimes following a shopping spree, the women finished with enough bags to leave their hands sore.

"Hey, we didn't know you'd be here," Roxy said to Craig. She was smiling as she dumped her department store bag onto the floor.

"Craig wanted to see the mansion, so I gave him a tour," Stormer said.

"We were also discussing some serious things," Craig began, as Pizzazz seated herself in the chair that Craig had occupied a moment ago. Jetta kicked off her heels and sat on one of the chair's armrests. "Like what to do about Stormer's situation."

Craig realized that his sister may not have viewed this as the best time to bring it up, but Craig thought this a very opportune time. All of the Misfits were in the room now. He also decided that he could judge for himself how seriously they were taking his sister's welfare.

"Really? We've been talking about it as well." Pizzazz said. "We had a discussion on during our ride to town."

"You did?" Stormer asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

"Don't go getting pissed about it – it just came up when we were driving. And we did give you the chance to join us today but you turned us down."

Craig felt his temperature rise at the dismissive way Pizzazz spoke to his sister. He had the sense that she pretty much spoke to everyone this way but that irked him nonetheless. If she could have read his thoughts, Stormer would have told her brother that Pizzazz was actually far more gentle with her band than she had been.

"So what did you talk about?" Craig asked, not belying his annoyance.

"Well, Stormer, we don't know what other information we can find out or how much help it's gonna be. So we were thinking of having a Plan B."

Stormer and Craig looked at each other as Pizzazz continued.

"Let's say worse comes to worse. We could build another room in the mansion. A secret room."

"A secret room?" Stormer echoed.

"Don't go freaking out – we're only thinking of this as a last resort idea."

"Yeah," Roxy continued. "Like a room we could hide you in, if we have to. I know it sounds shitty, but it'd beat jail if it ever came to that. We can build a room that's got a hidden entrance, that no one would know about."

Jetta's face gave away some of the unease with the idea. She hated small, enclosed spaces and she dearly hoped such a room would not be needed.

Stormer took another look at her brother. "Actually, Craig and I were talking about…stuff like this. Like, back up plans and such." She paused and said, "I don't think it's a bad idea."

"Neither do I," Craig admitted.

Roxy began, "Maybe we can even get Techrat to build us something that tells –" She abruptly stopped and looked at Craig. She then looked at Pizzazz, embarrassed by her blunder of mentioning Techrat to an outsider.

"Oh," Stormer began, "Craig knows about Techrat."

"He does?" Pizzazz asked, angrily.

"Calm down, Pizzazz," Stormer said, with a smile. "I only just told him now, when we were discussing what we were doing…to protect me. I had to tell him since we're going to use whatever additional information we can get from Techrat. Craig's gotta be as much of a part of this as you guys are and we can trust him to keep it a secret."

Craig studied Pizzazz's face. She had looked livid a split second ago when Stormer had told her about revealing Techrat's existence. But he had noticed that when Stormer explained her reasoning for doing so, Pizzazz appeared to be listening and her facial expression relaxed.

"Even from Aja?" Pizzazz asked. She sounded calm now but no less demanding.

"Yes, even from Aja," Craig answered. He once again had the feeling that he had made the right decision in withdrawing from the talent search, years ago. The two bands had such bad blood between them and, as he was discovering, numerous secrets as well. Being the boyfriend of a Hologram and brother of a Misfit was a truly unique experience and difficult enough as is. He was glad he had not joined the Holograms.

"So what were you about to say then, Roxy?" Stormer asked.

"I was thinkin' maybe Techrat can build us some sort of gadget that can tell when a vehicle is approaching the mansion," Roxy said. "Maybe even something that tells when it's a vehicle from the Morality Office. It'd give us some warning if we need to get Stormer in hiding."

Stormer went on to tell the other Misfits of the additional ideas that she and Craig had mulled over. The group concluded that they liked the idea of a hidden room inside the mansion the best, as it seemed much safer than sending Stormer off somewhere else.

"But how are we going to build it?" Stormer asked. "And won't the servants know something's going on?"

"We can send them away for a few weeks," Pizzazz said, waving a hand.

"They will get suspicious though," Jetta cautioned.

"Don't worry – we'll pay them," Pizzazz responded, with her solution to everything.

Stormer wondered for a moment how the housework would get done in the absence of servants, but she decided now was not the time to pose that question. She had a sinking feeling that she would be doing much of it.

"But how are we going to build this room?" Stormer queried. "I have no idea how to construct a – a hidden door, for example. We're really gonna need someone who knows what they're doing with this."

"I'd be glad to work on it," Craig said.

Stormer gave her brother a questioning look. She knew that he had some basic skills, along the lines of building shelves or installing deadbolts. But this project seemed much more involved and complex. Stormer herself would have no idea where to begin.

"I can do it," he insisted.

"I don't know, Craig. We're talking about home building. This isn't easy at all." Stormer was worried that her brother, in a room full of women, may be overselling his skills in this arena.

"I'm pretty good with my hands," Roxy offered. She was leaning against a wall and looking intently at Stormer.

"But do either of you have the experience to – to take on a project like this? I mean, think about it. This is huge. Where would you even start?" Stormer asked. She continued to give Craig a penetrating look.

There was silence for a few moments before Craig finally said, "Well I know someone who could make short work of this. Aja."

Pizzazz, Roxy, and Jetta exchanged looks at the mention of one of their old enemies.

"Aja? Coming here and helping us?" Pizzazz snorted. "I doubt she'd be willing!"

"Well, you're wrong Pizzazz," Craig said flatly. Stormer's heart leapt towards her throat as she feared an altercation between her brother and her lead singer. "Aja's worried about Stormer too. We talked about it. She wants to help Stormer. I know she'd agree to this."

"She could do it, too," Stormer said. "She's great with this kind of thing."

"She's told me that she used to do things like taking down walls at the old Starlight House all the time," Craig added. "She's got a lot more experience than I have."

Stormer looked at Pizzazz and spread her hands open, "Look, Pizzazz, I know it bothers you that Jem and the Holograms know…my secret. They've got one up on us – it's true. But the fact is that they do know and we can't change it. If we could use help from one of them then we should. You agreed that this is a serious situation and we gotta do something. Now we have a solution that could work – we just gotta make it happen. And we probably can't do it without someone like Aja."

"Stormer's right," Roxy admitted. She had always disliked Aja strongly, but her caring for Stormer far outweighed her negativity towards the Hologram. "We can't like bring in a construction company to do this. We gotta make sure that no one who doesn't already know finds out. But Aja already knows so we aren't risking anything. And none of us can do it."

Pizzazz looked at Jetta. Jetta didn't care for this part of the plan at all, but she nodded, recognizing the truth of Stormer's words.

"Okay," Pizzazz said. "If Aja agrees." She took a deep breath. "Maybe things'll change soon and this plan won't be necessary."

Jetta spoke quietly and her voice carried sorrow, "I doubt that, Pizzazz."

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Craig left shortly afterwards. Pizzazz, Roxy, and Jetta thought that going for a swim might be relaxing after their long day shopping, and the four of us hit the pool. Roxy was wearing her bikini and sunglasses, and she drank a beer as she reclined on this floating device inside the pool. Pizzazz and Jetta lay on recliners, soaking up the sun.

As a kid, I'd never learned how to swim properly. Years ago I had a close call in the water so I took a swimming class. That afternoon, I was kinda doggy-paddling around rather than doing any actual swimming. (Honestly, it was good to know how to swim but it was too much like exercise!) I liked moving around in the water. It also helped diffuse a kind of awkward situation as I didn't want any of the others to think I was checking them out in their skimpy bathing suits. Especially Roxy.

"We haven't had a jam session since before the concert," Jetta said, when I had swum near her and Pizzazz's loungers.

"Yeah, I know," Pizzazz said, as she paged through a magazine. "We oughtta do one."

"Tomorrow," Roxy called. I looked over at her and smiled. She was the picture of contentment and it was obvious that she wasn't going to budge from her floating recliner.

Waiting for tomorrow was fine with me. It had only been a few short days since our amazing concert anyway. I occasionally liked to take a break from composing too, giving the creative juices time to accumulate. But I never wait too long because I also believe that you cannot simply sit and wait for inspiration – you have to go after it with attack.

"Yeah, tomorrow," Pizzazz said. "Today's shot."

"Hey, Pizzazz," I began, "thanks for doing this. The room in the mansion, I mean. I hope it's not a bummer for you that we'll be making changes to your place."

"Yeah, yeah," she said, waving a hand in the air. She didn't want to discuss it anymore.

"You should make sure that your father doesn't have any serious plans to sell this place," Jetta said. She then added, "Do we need to tell him about the…renovations?" Jetta asked.

Pizzazz made a face. "We could host 50-person sex orgies here every day and he'd never notice."

I couldn't help but giggle.

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Riot sat at his desk on the top floor of Stinger Sound. Surrounded by windows, he had a breathtaking view of the city's lights against the darkness of the evening. His eyes, however, were weary and did not appreciate the view this night. His day had been a busy one, containing numerous meetings. Since Eric Raymond's departure, Riot had promoted two other company executives to Assistant Vice President, to handle most of the day to day operations of Stinger Sound. Decisions were still made by Riot though.

His meeting that day with the head of finance was a disappointing one. The diminishing economy contained to drain Stinger Sound and the company had been losing money for over a year.

Even more discouraging than the balance sheets had been the realization that, despite the dire financial picture, the Misfits still brought in a lot of money. The Stingers were the highest-grossing act on the label; their catalog brought in the most profit. However, the Misfits – who had been together longer and had more releases – were second, and they were not a distant second at all. In fact they were right on the Stingers' heels. The musical act that came in third, however, was light-years behind the Misfits in terms of bringing money in to Stinger Sound. Riot was faced with the realization that once the Misfits were destroyed, his company would be bereft of a money-making act and even further in the hole financially.

He chased away that concern. Riot considered himself a rock star first, a music company executive second. The Misfits were still a threat to his band. They were competitors of the Stingers and, although Stinger Sound might suffer in the short-term, in the long run the Stingers would be better off once the Misfits were discredited and gone from the music scene. 'Besides, I can always find another act to replace them,' Riot told himself.

He tried to ignore the voice inside his head that responded, 'Replace them with whom?' There was not an abundance of fresh talent or up-and-coming bands. The selection of music played on the radio and television was extremely limited. He shook his head – there were always bands forming, there had to be, and some of them possessed talent. Riot made a mental note to put more money behind research and development so that new acts could be unearthed. This would be an opportune time to do that since competing labels were probably just digging in their heels trying to survive. He could get a head start on locating that talent.

Aside from reviewing disappointing balance sheets, Riot's day had contained a few other setbacks. His friend from the Morality Office, frustrated at the lack of the promised scandal, was not as forthcoming as he had hoped. Riot had been told that he himself could not review the blood samples taken on the day of the concert. "We dispose of them once the report has been filed," he had been told.

Riot asked whether the blood samples could be reviewed in more detail before they were discarded. His friend had been noncommittal but did say, "I'll see if I can have someone look into it."

Determined to trudge through at least another hour's worth of work before heading home for the night, Riot reached for the stack of letters that he had not yet had a chance to review. He rifled through them, seeking out the most urgent items. A letter from the Department of Communications had arrived that day.

Riot slammed his fist down on the table. The Department had rejected the lyrics of three different Stingers songs for their upcoming album. They were requiring that the songs be re-recorded with approved lyrics. A stunned Riot had never seriously thought that any of their lyrics would be subject to censorship.

He scanned the letter, looking at the snippets of the forbidden lyrics. "I want you….Tonight you're going to be mine" from one song. "Feel my music caress you….Let me take you away" from another. Riot shook his head.

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It was Shana who suggested to Aja that she not go to Craig's house again. Aja wasn't aspiring to win an award for chastity, but she was worried about how she took leave of her senses when they were alone together. As she had awkwardly told Craig, Aja wasn't ready for things to move further yet. So Shana had recommended that if she felt too tempted when alone with Craig, then she should consider not going to his house by herself.

Craig had insisted on taking her out to dinner at a trendy restaurant, Braxx. Despite Aja's protestations ("Craig, I could care less where we go to eat. I just want to spend time with you!") she had been talked into it. After Aja had carefully applied her make-up and donned a fancy new dress and heels, Craig picked her up.

"How did your interview go?" Aja asked once they were seated inside the trendy eatery. Despite the depressed economy, there were enough patrons of Braxx that evening. Several couples of all ages were dining dressed in their most stylish clothes as well. Aja gazed at Craig. She found him just as gorgeous in a sweaty jogging suit as in tonight's get up. Her heart again began to spin.

Craig craned his head around before answering. Aja suppressed a frown. He seemed to be checking whether they were at risk of being overheard.

"They offered me a part-time job," Craig said dejectedly. He had interviewed for a day job, to supplement his income from his new gig with the band that played formal events. Craig had no skills or training apart from his music, so he'd interviewed with a shipping company. He would be loading packages.

"That's great!"

"Well, I don't know. The salary's not too bad, but they don't offer any benefits. And they said they can't give me more than thirty hours a week. I'm starting on Tuesday." He silently added that his sister would still need to foot the bill for his health insurance premiums.

"Well, so thirty hours a week? It's great it gives you the time you need to play and rehearse with the band," Aja said. She noticed her boyfriend still frowning, and softly added, reaching to place her hand over his, "What does it matter, Craig? So it's not the world's most exciting job. It's hard work and an honest living. I respect that tremendously."

His eyes met hers, and she saw that dreamy look on his face that reflected her own. "Have I told you how wonderful you are?" he murmured.

Aja's insides melted. She felt the mixture of excitement and fear over this relationship and was too nervous to eat much of her expensive dinner.

During the meal, she asked how his visit with his sister had gone. She lowered her voice when she asked the question. Again his eyes darted around nervously, this time perhaps justifiably so.

"Let's discuss this later," he whispered.

After they had shared a piece of tiramisu (with Aja managing to stomach only a few bites), the couple soon found themselves inside Craig's car. "Would you like to come back to my place for a drink?" he asked.

Aja felt her heart rate jump. She hadn't yet told Craig of her new policy. For a woman who did not hesitate to assert herself, she was finding this concept surprisingly challenging. "Um…how about we go back to Starlight House instead?" she suggested.

"Sure!" he replied.

As usual, Starlight House was bursting with activity. Even late into the evening, teenage and pre-teen girls dominated the estate, playing in the rec room, creating havoc in the kitchen, and arguing over control of the television. A few of Raya's family members were visiting, and her mother was fussing over an involved dessert that she was creating for the eager Starlight girls.

"Did you save room for dessert?" Raya's mother called as Aja and Craig passed the kitchen.

"Oh, thank you, Mrs. Alonso but I think we're full!" Aja responded.

She led Craig towards the back porch, hoping they might find some privacy there. The evening was a beautiful, balmy one with a cooling breeze. But Kimber sat on the porch with Deirdre and a new girl, providing guidance as Deirdre gave an impromptu acoustic guitar lesson.

"Maybe we could help in the kitchen," Craig suggested, scoring immeasurable points with Aja. "Mrs. Alonso looked like she maybe could use a hand."

Aja and Craig ended up mainly assisting in the clean-up of the large kitchen. "Is Jem around tonight?" he asked, as he loaded the industrial-sized dishwasher.

"I don't think so," Aja said, as she pre-rinsed dishes before handing them over. "She'll stop in once or twice a week – more often when we're rehearsing but we don't see her too often apart from that."

Once they were finished cleaning, Aja was asked to take a look at the clothes dryer. It was suspected that a clog in the hose and vents was hampering the machine's effectiveness. Aja changed clothing before she and Craig got out the vacuum and its attachment, and cleaned out the vent.

"How's this for a date?" Aja chuckled, covered in dust. She and Craig were finished with the dryer, now settled inside Aja's room. In deference to Jerrica's wishes, they left the door open. She didn't want to set a bad example for the Starlight girls.

"It was fine by me," Craig responded.

"This is actually a lot more my speed than Braxx. Not that I didn't enjoy Braxx," she added quickly. "I really appreciated the nice evening out. But I just wanted to say that you don't need to do that fancy stuff for me. I like it once in a while. But I don't really need it that often." She paused and then added, "I guess I'm different than other girls."

Craig smiled and reached over to touch her hand. They sat demurely on the twin-sized bed, side by side giving no one who happened to amble by any reason to pause. "I love that about you. I love your difference, the things that make you so special and unique. I love the fact that you can fix anything without even having to think too much about how to do it. You're beautiful and you're smart."

Aja knew she was blushing again. Craig was the only man who had made her blush.

She tried to deflect attention from it and said, in a whisper, "I really appreciate your help with the dryer. No offense to Anthony – he's such a nice guy, but I think he skipped shop class. He's an amazing director but he doesn't know how to do any of the repair-type things. And Rio's pretty good at this stuff but he's been so busy." In addition to his work as Jem and the Holograms' road manager, Rio was – at Jerrica's request – serving as manager for two of Starlight Music's other acts.

"Hey, I like helping. I like doing things with my hands."

Aja found herself looking at his hands. They looked so strong and powerful. Her eyes traveled up his arms. He had removed his jacket, leaving his well-muscled upper arms so visible. As a drummer and fellow workout enthusiast, Craig had well-defined arm muscles. Aja felt her underarms grow slightly damp and her heart rate accelerate.

A few Starlight girls noisily walked down the hallway, providing Aja with another distraction. One girl unsubtly craned her head around, obviously looking inside the room and taking a glimpse at Aja and Craig. Aja smiled at the girl, and she moved along quickly. Giggles could be heard as they hurried down the hall.

"Sorry," Aja said quietly. "I guess there's not much privacy here."

"It's no big deal. I like the Starlight girls. After all, I grew up with a sister who's four years younger than I, so I'm used to teenage girls. But Aja…is there a reason why you didn't want to come to my place?" Craig asked softly. He swallowed and then asked, "Have I….been pressuring you in any way?"

"No! No, not at all," Aja replied quickly. "Really, you haven't!" She dropped her voice another octave, and Craig strained to hear. "It's just…what we talked about before. This is all so new for me."

"Do you want to see each other less often?" The thought scared him but he wanted to give Aja the option. The couple spent time together most days of the week, pretty much as often as their schedules permitted.

"No. No, definitely not." She glanced nervously at him, "You don't, do you?"

"See you less often? No way. I just thought…maybe it would make things easier for you. Give you more time to get used to all this."

"I don't think we need to do that. And the whole thing with not going to your place…it's more about me than you. You're behavior is fine. It's me I'm worried about. Like I'm going to lose control."

Craig smiled and teased, "You mean you're worried you're going to throw yourself at me?"

Aja shook her head. "You can joke about it, but you've got no idea…." she let her voice trail off.

They were interrupted by a tap on the open door. Mrs. Bailey told Aja that she had a phone call. Aja returned to the room shortly.

"It was Jerrica," she explained, sitting back down on the bed next to Craig. "She wanted to know if I had a chance to look at the dryer yet."

After a pause, Aja then said, her voice quiet once more, "So, at the restaurant, we started to talk about your meeting with Stormer."

"Yes," he began, his voice even quieter. No one passing by their room would've had a chance at overhearing them, though the hallway was currently empty. "It went well." He paused, and then said, "It's interesting. I don't feel like anything's different since I found out that she's gay. It's like it doesn't change how I feel about her at all. Just makes me feel more overprotective of her than I did before, I guess."

"In this environment, she could probably use someone to be overprotective of her," Aja mused.

"We talked about that too. She gets it – she understands how serious the situation is. Her bandmates do too. I was there in the room with them and I might not've believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, but those three – Pizzazz, Roxy, and Jetta – really are invested in what happens to Stormer and are trying to figure out ways to protect her. They've been…researching what they can about the blood test."

He briefly told her what they had learned. He managed to do so without mentioning Techrat. He simply told Aja that they had "a friend who's good with computers", and Aja left it at that. She knew all about secrets and not probing too deeply.

"So it looks like there is a chance that she could actually go to jail over this," Craig continued, "if she ends up getting tested again, and if you and the others aren't there….to do whatever it is that you did before."

"That's really scary," Aja whispered. "It's not at all surprising though. So what are you going to do about it? Is she looking at a back-up plan?"

"Funny you should mention that." Craig went on to describe, in very hushed tones, their idea of building a room with a hidden door.

"That's not a bad idea," Aja remarked. "It probably is safer than trying to smuggle her off to Mexico or somewhere else. At least this way she'd be on the premises and you wouldn't have to be worrying about where she's at." The wheels inside Aja's brain began to turn quickly. "But why would you want to build a new room? I bet it would be easier to outfit an existing room, make a few tweaks on it. How will you do that though – have you taken on a project like this before? I doubt any of the Misfits have, and you can't go out and trust some contractor who you don't know."

Craig looked at Aja. "Well….that's one thing I wanted to talk to you about. Do you think you might be willing to work on this? I would work with you every step of the way but…I don't have the level of skill that you do." He took a breath before continuing. "I know that this is a lot to ask of you. And I know that you and the Misfits have a lot of bad blood between you. I – I ask you to do this for me."

He was unable to read the expression on her face. Craig also hated having to ask this of his girlfriend – it was a bit of a kick in the crotch, the fact that he was unable to lead the project on his own and his girl knew more about this than he did. But he continued on, trying to choose his words carefully, "I know you have a lot of responsibilities already, and this would be a big undertaking."

Aja looked straight ahead. A few images from the past few years flashed through her mind. She seized onto one. "Did I ever tell you about the first time I ever…interacted with your sister?" she asked.

"No," he said, with a hint of apprehension.

"She and the other Misfits stole our instruments after our first public concert. We followed them in the Rock n Roadster. Stormer and Roxy opened the back of the Misfits' van and threw our instruments at us."

Craig gulped. "Really?"

"Uh-huh. Oh, Craig, I could go on and on. Some of the things she did back in those days – " Aja abruptly stopped, remembering something else she needed to tell Craig.

"I don't get it. I swear, she wasn't like that when we were growing up. She kinda always had a wild streak but I thought it was a really small streak. I like to think that Pizzazz and Roxy corrupted her somehow. I guess I could've been there for her more after our parents died," he added, pensively, "but I was off chasing my own dream in England."

He stopped and looked at the worry on Aja's face.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"There's something I've been meaning to tell you." The two had been speaking barely above whisper-levels, but Aja dropped her voice even lower. If someone had been sitting in the same room with them, they would not have been able to make out her words. "Yesterday I was talking to Kimber, and I think one of the Starlight girls overheard something we said. Something that outed Stormer."

"Oh no. Who is it? Is she trustworthy?"

"It's Ashley. I consider her very trustworthy and reliable now, but she wasn't always. She had her difficulties growing up. She once ran away, back when we first formed the band. She actually fell in with the Misfits. They used her, to get at us. Maybe some of it was Eric Raymond's doings, I don't know. But there was something really terrible that happened on the day of the day of the Battle of the Bands. Ashley ran off to the Misfits, and Raymond kidnapped her." Aja sadly recounted the rest of the story, nervous about telling it all to Craig. She sensed that Stormer had not shared this story with her brother, and she could see why. "He used her to get us away from the concert, and he told the Misfits to keep an eye on her. They locked her in a trunk." She paused so her words could make an impact, and then continued, "Ashley said that Stormer knew it was the wrong thing to do, and she lifted the lid of the trunk as if she was going to help her. But Pizzazz and Roxy walked in and bullied her into going along with them and leaving Ashley locked up. And that's what she did. She left the girl in the trunk."

Craig's face was pale. "In the past few days, I've learned a lot of things about my sister that I never knew," he finally said. "You…you're sure this is true? Ashley wouldn't make this up?"

"I don't think she would. I guess Stormer and the other Misfits would be the only other people who could say exactly what happened that day but I believe Ashley." Aja paused and asked, "So Stormer's never told you about this, has she?"

"She's told me about some of the…wilder things her band has done but I am getting the idea that she's left out a lot over the years." He reached for Aja's hand. "I'm sorry about it. I knew Mary was always a bit weak-willed and I'm sure she was really susceptible to Pizzazz and Roxy's bullying. And like I said, I really could've been there for her more. But it doesn't matter – she's an adult and she's responsible for what she's done even if she was bullied into it."

"I don't resent her anymore. I guess I don't even resent the rest of her band either. Shana taught us about forgiveness and how we have to turn the other cheek. Kimber always taught us to try to empathize with them too." Aja respected her bandmates and always tried to learn what she could from them. "But I worry about Ashley and what she might've heard yesterday."

"I do too. How sure are you that she did overhear something? And do you think talking to her about it might work?"

"I've been debating that issue with myself over and over. But I think I do need to talk to her. Maybe help her realize how serious this is."

"And you can find out what she thinks of Mary. If she does resent her – and it looks like she'd be justified if she didshe might use this to try to get at her."

"Good point. I'll talk to her first thing tomorrow."

"There's one other thing I wanted to mention about this," Craig began. "Did it cross your mind that the Stingers might be behind the fact that the Morality Office just happened to show up the night of the concert?"

Aja wrinkled her brow. "I hadn't thought of it. But the Stingers hate the Misfits – or Riot hates Pizzazz, at least so it wouldn't surprise me. Is there something in particular that makes you think that?"

Craig recounted the evidence that his sister had presented to him. He concluded by saying, "You add it all up, and it does paint a picture."

Aja listened and then commented, "Well, Rapture always seems to be smirking, so no surprise there," she said wryly. "And given how much the Department of Communications has been monitoring our song lyrics, I think it's entirely possible that the Morality Office took it upon itself to just show up that night. They have no love for rock music in general. But I do see what you're talking about. Several times the Stingers have done things just for the sake of being nasty. Riot probably sees the Misfits as a band that competes with his for the spotlight and wouldn't mind it if a scandal brought them down."

She bit her tongue to keep from pointing out that the Misfits were experiencing a taste of their own medicine. Aja then silently chastised herself. 'This is a lot different,' she told herself.

"Would he do the same to your group?"

"I doubt it, even if he could find something on us. He still has a thing for Jem. You should've seen him fawning over her when we had that meeting at Stinger Sound before the show." Aja paused and then continued. "I'll talk to Ashley. And I will work with you on that room in the Gabor mansion. The thought of being on Pizzazz's property doesn't make me happy, but I'll do it for you and for Stormer's sake."

"Thank you, Aja."

"I'll need to mention it to Jer— um, to Jem. And Jerrica," she stumbled. At the last instant, Aja's mind hadn't been sure if she was going to name Jerrica or Jem, so she tripped over the words. She was used to hanging around the people who knew Jem's secret and had let her guard down around Craig.

"Will either of them object?"

"Oh, even if they do, they can't stop me once I've got my mind set."

Craig smiled. "Why does that not surprise me?"

TO BE CONTINUED

Feedback and reviews are always very appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

**SURVIVAL OF THE MISFITS**

By Stormkeeper

_Once again, I wish to thank my diligent, detailed, and creative beta-testers: Denisia and Severine._

**CHAPTER THREE**

I tracked down Craig at our family house the next day.

"I got a little gift for you," I said, smiling and handing my brother an envelope. I glanced around and saw that he was doing an admirable job, for a bachelor, of keeping the place clean. The living room was a bit unkempt but the carpet had been recently vacuumed. The kitchen looked decent too with no dishes in the sink. But I mostly wanted to concentrate on the look on Craig's face.

"A gift? What's this?" he asked quizzically.

"Just open it," I grinned.

He did so. It was a gift certificate to Leber Jewelers, one of the top jewelry stores that featured stunning pieces, some of which were very unique. The certificate was for no small amount either, and I saw his eyes get really wide.

"Mary!" he exclaimed.

"It's for you to go and get Aja something nice," I said. "You told me you felt bad about not being able to get her some jewelry. So now you can get her some. In fact, I think they're having a sale on sapphires and rubies this weekend. I saw some great necklaces and earrings when I went there to get this, and I bet sapphires would work really well with Aja's coloring."

"I can't accept this! You're already paying for my health insurance, paying all the utilities here, letting me use your car – "

"Craig, who cares? I've got a lot of money saved. We made a lot, in the Misfits, over the years. This isn't that much money, and I want you to have it!"

"No, Mary. I won't take it."

"Well, there's nothing else that can be done with it. I've already bought the gift certificate and they won't refund it," I said, smiling. "Guess you're just gonna have to take this."

I love giving. It makes me feel really good. We went back and forth on this for a few minutes, but in the end Craig took the certificate.

88888888888888

"Alright, Stormer, I've been saving it for you."

Roxy had a big, juicy zit on her forehead. I grinned. I like to pop pimples, and I rarely get them myself. But pimples make recurring visits on Roxy's face no matter what she applies to fend them off. Years ago I'd comment on them, asking her if she liked to pop them. I kept mentioning it enough that one day she finally rolled her eyes and said, "Oh for Christ's sake, do you just want to pop it yourself?" She had let me squeeze it. Now it was a tradition for us whenever she had pimples. She never got scars from the popping and whatever pain it caused apparently didn't bother her.

Jetta eyed us as I popped Roxy's pimple. "Gross," she muttered, shaking her head. "You two are barmy."

Pizzazz entered the studio. We were at Stinger Sound that afternoon. I looked at Pizzazz and noted that she was dressed up a lot more than she usually would for our sessions. Her make up was freshly applied and she had asked me to do her hair earlier. Her wrist was accented by the emerald and diamond bracelet we had purchased for her. I wondered if she wanted to look her best in case Riot happened by. Despite everything he had done to us, she still wanted to impress him.

"Okay, we gotta get to work here," Pizzazz commanded. A simple, 'Hello and good afternoon everyone,' would've been nice, but who am I kidding? Courtesy is not Pizzazz's strong point.

"Remind me why we're here again," Roxy groaned. She was slouched over in her seat, drinking a beer.

"We're gonna start making better quality recordings of the new songs," Pizzazz said, impatiently.

"Yeah, the equipment here's better," Jetta added.

Although the Gabor mansion also had a room we used for jamming and rehearsals, the facilities at Stinger Sound were better equipped. We weren't ready to begin recording the new album – not by a long shot – but we wanted to start laying down some more solid recordings of the new songs. We (well, I mostly) would play around with them for a while before they'd ever make it onto an album, continuing to refine and develop the songs.

Jetta then turned to me and smiled, "That was a cracker of a new song we did at the concert! The audience loved it."

"Now's the time to take the momentum from the show and keep working," Pizzazz said.

"A few of the articles on us mentioned that we were working on new material," I added. "We got great such coverage from that show. Er – not as great as what we used to get, of course. But maybe that'll help generate the excitement we need before our next release."

"We need every damn edge we can get with the music biz still in the toilet," Pizzazz grumbled.

So Roxy agreed, and we spent a few hours recording. It was a productive session. We hadn't intended to improvise but at one point Jetta embellished a track with her saxophone, adding in a solo of sorts. It was unexpected. Pizzazz heaped praise on it when we were finished with the song.

Not to be outdone, apparently, Roxy expanded her guitar solo on the next song. It was good but pretty rough though. Jetta's addition to the previous song sounded as if she'd been working on it earlier; it was more polished than what Roxy improvised.

"What'ya think?" Roxy asked, when the song was over. She was looking at Pizzazz, grinning in her direction.

But Jetta jumped in and replied, "Your little guitar solo? Ruddy awful! Were you making it up on the spot?"

Roxy made a face and I saw her hands clenching into fists. "Oh, stuff it up your ass, Jetta. It's called jamming. Besides, I'd like to hear you try to play guitar!"

"I'll play guitar when you learn how to play saxophone," Jetta shot back, taking a menacing step towards Roxy.

I sat down and sighed glumly. I wasn't up for another Roxy-Jetta spat. God knows I've heard enough of them over the years. The thought of another one made my bones weary.

Fortunately, Pizzazz seemed to agree. "Knock it off, you two! I'm not in the mood for another one of your fights. Besides, it's dinner time and I'm starving!"

Roxy and Jetta both looked at Pizzazz. Our leader looked quite serious about not wanting to referee a fight. They relaxed their stances.

I offered to make a reservation at one of the Pizzazz's favorite places. It was a traditional five star restaurant, known for its fine dining and outrageously expensive entrees. I don't think Pizzazz cared for the ambiance, but the food was good. I liked it just fine but their portions were actually kind of small and I hoped Roxy would be alright as she prefers larger portions. I inwardly sighed, resigned to the fact that I would be sharing much of my entrée with her. Well, she did let me pop her pimple earlier so I guess we would be even.

As we drove there, I reminded the others that we would need to be on our best behavior lest we attract the attention of the Morality Officers.

We entered the dimly lit restaurant. Dull music, way too subdued for us, played in the background as we walked towards the maitre-d'. The dour, thin man greeted the four of us with a stern, "Are you ladies alone?"

"Do we look like we're goddamn alone?" Pizzazz shot back.

The unfazed host looked at us reproachfully and replied, "I don't see a gentleman in your midst. You four women are dining alone?" he repeated. Honestly, I think he would've used more courtesy had he been addressing pond scum.

"Yeah, we are," Pizzazz insisted, exasperated. "Get the manager out here and tell him that Phyllis Gabor is here and wants a table."

The maitre-d' turned and wordlessly left, apparently to do Pizzazz's bidding. "Why that asshole," Roxy muttered. "I oughtta rearrange his face."

"Not here, Roxy," I urged quietly.

By the time the manager arrived, a young couple (a guy and a girl) arrived and were promptly seated by another server. The manager offered a stiff and insincere apology, and found us a table.

Our dinner conversation was stilted. Well, it's not like we ever sat around discussing Dostoevsky or had the most scintillating conversations in the world but this evening was truly a bit awkward. Bad feelings between Jetta and Roxy drifted around, as did the apprehension over our incident with the host. Would we someday be unable to dine out at all? What if Pizzazz hadn't been the daughter of Harvey Gabor and the heiress to the Gabor fortune?

On the way home, Pizzazz asked me if I'd use this cool scalp massager thing she had on her. She actually didn't ask me; it was more like she ordered me. But I didn't mind at all. The scalp massager is this thing with a handle – it's got lots of these prongs that poke out and you run it all along your (or someone else's) scalp. That used to be a small part of her spa ritual too, and Pizzazz was still mourning, I think, the fact that the mansion no longer had its own mini-resort.

When we neared the mansion, Roxy and Jetta began another spat. I don't even remember who started it or what it was about. I got the idea that Roxy was still sore about the disparaging comments on her improvised work. Pizzazz seemed to be tuning them out. Wordlessly she and I walked to her room. She seated herself in her favorite cushiony chair, and I retrieved the scalp massager from the dresser.

A second or two after I got to work, a soft tap sounded on the door.

"Pardon me for interrupting, Miss Gabor," James, the butler began. "But you have a phone call. It's from a Mr. T.R. He is on hold. Would you like to take the call?"

I gripped the massager more tightly. Techrat. I wondered what he might have discovered. I sensed it would not be good.

"Yeah, bring it in!" Pizzazz ordered.

Pizzazz's conversation with Techrat was brief. "He's got news for us," she said, after hanging up. "We're goin' there in person to find out what it is."

I wondered why she didn't push harder to make Techrat tell us over the phone what his news was. After all, we were all tired from the recording session and the heavy dinner, and Pizzazz had just begun to mellow out with me and the scalp massager. But less than ten minutes later, we were on the road with Roxy and Jetta. No one grumbled about the impromptu trip.

During the car ride, I looked out the window at the night sky. The bright lights of the city sped by as we neared the deserted area of Techrat's lair. The anxiety slowly began to build inside my gut and fears of an uncertain future swirled around again. I thought of the plan we had agreed to with Craig – building a hideaway – and my blood chilled at the idea that we someday may need to use it. I leaned my head against the window. I tried to focus my thoughts elsewhere so I began to mentally replay our session at Stinger Sound. The songs danced inside my head anew, and I started to embellish them -- a new riff here, a more dynamic opening there. I didn't realize that I was humming until Jetta gently tapped my shoulder, an amused look on her face.

We entered Techrat's home. Several glowing computer monitors illuminated the dark, cavernous space. I had managed to banish the anxiety during most of the car ride, but it was returning once more. I felt like downing valium in an effort to steady myself.

"Alright, Techrat, what's so important that you couldn't tell us over the phone," Pizzazz demanded.

"I just got into one of the Morality Office's computer systems," he rasped. "They're suspicious of you."

"No shit, we already knew that," Roxy said. Her arms were crossed and she looked distinctly tired and cranky. "They paid us a visit before the concert and said they put my name in some sort of database."

"Riot recently spoke with someone he knows there," Techrat continued, as if Roxy hadn't spoken. "He asked them to re-examine your blood test results from the night of the concert. Riot also had contact with this officer before then. Their records indicate that Riot asked them to come to the concert and require you, and the other bands, to take the test."

Jetta's eyes flew wide. "So it's not just enough that the bloody bastard set us up the night of the concert. He's still after us!"

"Big surprise," Roxy snorted.

Jetta shook her head. "Can't believe he didn't think we'd suss him out eventually."

I looked at Pizzazz. I wasn't sure what to expect – maybe for her to start throwing a tantrum and scream. But she wasn't doing that. Instead she closed her eyes and shook her head. I saw a wistful look on her face that suggested realization and resignation.

"What did I ever see in him?" Pizzazz finally breathed. She uttered it as if to herself, but it was loud enough that we all overheard her.

I blinked and took in Pizzazz's question. Somehow I knew, my instincts told me with certainty, that she had just turned a corner. Maybe it was the result of everything we had experienced during the last few months. But somehow I knew that Pizzazz had finally accepted in her gut what her brain had been telling her for years now, about Riot.

"That son of a bitch," she seethed. I then saw a look of enmity in her eyes, the likes of which I'd never seen from her, not even directed towards Jem.

Before we left, Techrat gave us print-outs of what he had discovered. He also gave us the contact information for a former member of the Morality Office. This former officer had been kicked out due to testing positive and apparently he was starting to work in opposition to their restrictive policies. Techrat mentioned that he came across this guy's information, and Jetta said that she thought he might make a good contact someday.

We piled back into the car after our meeting with Techrat. Roxy sat in the driver's seat (she's been doing more and more driving since our lead singer is finally coming to accept the fact that her driving is a menace to everyone, herself included) with Pizzazz on the passenger's side. Jetta and I sat in the backseat. We pulled out of the desolate area that surrounded Techrat's hideaway and sped towards the highway.

I hadn't noticed the storm clouds that had begun to gather on our way to Techrat's because I had been so wrapped up in worry. But by the time we left, the rain poured heavily. A strong wind blew.

We were quiet for the first several moments of our car ride. Once Techrat had shared his information with us, there had not been much conversation at all. Various possibilities had been playing out in my mind and they all led towards the same outcome.

Finally, Jetta's voice, with its accent that I always found beautiful, pierced the silence. "It's really pissing it down," she observed.

"I think that means it's raining hard," Roxy muttered sarcastically.

Jetta ignored her. "So, mates, now we know that Riot is still working with them to get at us," she said. "What do we do?"

"We gotta get Riot to stop," I offered. My sentiment may have been obvious but I thought I needed to say it anyway.

"Too bad we don't still got Zipper," Roxy said. "I'd like to send that thug over to Riot's and give him a piece of our minds. Scare him and show him what he gets for messin' with us."

"But that won't work," Pizzazz said flatly. "We don't have a Zipper anymore, and even if we did get somebody else, we can't threaten Riot. That penthouse he lives in has security like the Pentagon. So does Stinger Sound. Besides, they could always trace whoever we send back to us."

"Even if we could do it, I don't think that would do any good anyway," Jetta added. "It would probably make him all the more eager to get at us."

We were quiet again for several moments. I wished Roxy would slow down. She was a better driver than Pizzazz but even still, the highway was dark and the rain persistent.

"Maybe someone needs to ask him to stop," I suggested.

"We can't ask him to stop, you idiot," Pizzazz snapped irritably.

I bit my tongue at that comment. She had not called me "you idiot" or something as bad for many years. I did not want to argue this point with her now, but I made a mental note that I was not going to let that pass. I would need to confront her later but this was not the time to get upset over that.

And neither Roxy nor Jetta said anything either.

"He's not gonna listen to us," Pizzazz continued. "He's never cared a shit for me."

Once again, I was glad to hear Pizzazz verbalize the conclusion that I sensed she had finally internalized. The four of us were quiet once more and I hoped that one of the other three would propose the idea that I had. No one did.

"Then we gotta find someone who Riot will listen to," I finally said.

"Well who the hell would that be?" Roxy asked. "I don't think he listens to anyone. He calls the shots with Minx and Rapture – not that either of them would help us anyway."

"The only person he seems to care for is that bugger Jem," Jetta concluded. "Unless something's changed, he still fancies her."

Again I silently prayed that Pizzazz or one of the others would suggest it. But no one did, so I gently prodded them again.

"Maybe Jem could talk to Riot on our behalf," I said.

"What!" Pizzazz cried out.

"Why'd she want to help us?" Roxy asked, nearly as dismissive as Pizzazz.

"She's helped us before," I said, marveling at Roxy's short memory. "I think she would do it again if we asked."

"No f---ing way," Pizzazz said. "I am not going to her to ask for help!"

"So then what do we do, guys?" I asked. "Do we just sit around and hope that I don't get arrested? Or that Roxy doesn't get arrested for being 'illegitimate'? Or that they don't arrest us all for the crime of not being married? We barely got seated at the restaurant tonight!"

I tried to keep a lid on my anger and disappointment. Sometimes it seemed like Pizzazz had made such progress, and other times she seemed to be her old self. I'm not sure how ticked off I sounded during those questions that I asked.

The others were quiet, so I continued. "Look, I like the idea of building a secret room inside the mansion but I think it would be like a lot better if we didn't have to use it in the first place! If we can get Riot off our tails and get the Morality Office off our tails…it would be a lot better in the long run. Riot won't listen to us. The only person he listens to is Jem. Jem's helped us before. She helped us the night of the benefit concert. She and her band already know my secret. Why not ask for help?"

I knew I was starting to sound flustered and angry, so I slowed my pace and began again, more softly, "Look, Pizzazz, you already went to her and called a truce. That wasn't easy or fun -- but you did it. How much harder do you think this would be?"

I saw Pizzazz shake her head. She didn't turn around to face me but rather looked straight ahead. "If you want to ask her, then you can. I'm not gonna do it."

Once again, disappointment and rage vied for the top place inside my heart. After everything I've done for her, the countless hit songs I wrote, the years we spent in the same band!

"It would mean a lot more and make a greater impact if it came from you. You're our leader," I insisted.

"It's your fault that we're in this mess. You do it," Pizzazz said. She might as well have rammed a knife through my heart with that comment, the bitterness flooding her voice further twisting it inside.

I turned and looked at Jetta. She didn't look at me, keeping her gaze in Pizzazz's direction. She wouldn't speak up. She rarely, if ever, crosses Pizzazz.

Roxy opened her mouth. "Stormer's got a point, Pizzazz. I think Jem would probably do it if Stormer asked but…I dunno why, but I think she'd be really impressed if you asked her."

"Well, Jem and her band know how Stormer is," Jetta spoke up. "I mean, they know what a softie you are, luv," she said, turning towards me. "But if you, Pizzazz, went to them and asked for help….they know that it is not easy for you. They would sit up and really take notice."

Jetta's voice had sounded fearful and tentative. Very unlike her and I knew that would not impress Pizzazz at all. I piped up again.

"Kimber once told me how much it meant to Jem, the fact that you yourself called the truce. They all know that that kind of stuff is easier for me, and that you could've just put me up to it. But it came from you and it meant a lot to them. You are our leader, after all."

I added that last sentence in, hoping that sucking up would help. And I got to admit that I made up that part about Kimber. She never actually said that to me. But I knew in my heart that the sentiment was true.

"If Riot's attacking Stormer, then he's attacking all of us," Roxy said. "I mean, shit think of how much things sucked when Stormer left the group."

As disappointed as I was with Pizzazz, I was doubly impressed with Roxy now. She was really going to bat for me. No one ever spoke about the time I had left the Misfits, let alone admitted how difficult it had been for the three of them. I did worry that the fact that Roxy said this would just make Pizzazz more stubborn though.

"Okay, okay, fine," Pizzazz relented. "Shit. I'll talk to Jem. End of discussion."

Victory! I silently rejoiced. I would thank Roxy later on, I vowed. And I would talk to Pizzazz about calling me an idiot, I vowed, but I would do that much later, after her talk with Jem.

After that heated exchange, we chatted amicably about nothing during the rest of the car ride. It was late in the night, too late to call Starlight House now. I sensed that everyone wanted to put aside talk of arrests and Riot for the remainder of the night. I joined in the group's playful banter. The rain appeared to be slowing down.

When we began to enter the great hall of the mansion, the servant on duty stopped us.

"Excuse me, Miss Gabor," she began. "You have a phone call. The---"

"At this hour?" Pizzazz interrupted, screeching. I hate how rude she is to the servants. And trust me, she's not even as bad as she used to be.

"Yes, ma'am. The caller says it's an emergency."

"Who is it?"

"Someone named Clash."

The four of us exchanged looks. Clash? Now there was a blast from the past!

Pizzazz rolled her eyes. "Bring me the phone," she barked.

Pizzazz was handed the receiver and spoke into it. "What do you want, Clash?" she asked. As during the last few times we'd had any contact with Clash, Pizzazz's voice conveyed irritation and disdain.

The rest of us could not hear Clash's end of the conversation. We looked at each other as Pizzazz asked, "You're in jail?"

Clash arrested? This was news indeed.

Pizzazz was quiet for a moment, apparently listening to whatever Clash was saying, before she demanded, "Quit beating around the bush. What are you in jail for?"

And then a moment of silence before Pizzazz let out an exasperated shriek and said, to no one in particular, "Oh for shit's sake. Everyone I know turns out to be a f---kin' dyke!"

Roxy, Jetta, and I exchanged looks again as Pizzazz's words sank in.

Jetta then said, sounding affronted, "Hey, I'm not!"

"Me neither!" Roxy added.

Whether Clash could hear them over the phone lines, I had no idea. But Pizzazz was ignoring the three of us.

"No," Pizzazz said, in response to something Clash must have requested. "Forget it Clash – you're a total loser." Silence for another second or two, and then, "Too bad. Figure a way out of it yourself."

Pizzazz hung up the phone.

"What's goin' on?" Roxy asked. Her arms were crossed and she looked amused.

"Clash got herself arrested. Turns out that she's gay," Pizzazz said. Her voice just dripped contempt.

Roxy rolled her eyes and mumbled, sarcastically, "Big surprise."

I knew enough of Roxy to know that she was only posturing. She actually was surprised. Pizzazz definitely was too; only Jetta looked unflustered.

Me, I was kicking myself for not suspecting it. All the clues sure had been there but I hadn't noticed them. Maybe it was because I didn't particularly like Clash at all and never really tried to figure her out or get to know her better. And maybe it was because I had tried to run from that part of my identity for so long. It's only in the last few months that I had been facing it, and I sure wasn't looking to detect it in other people.

"What did she want?" I asked, the trepidation starting up again. "What happened to her?"

"She wants my help getting her out of jail. I told her to forget it. Clash is such a loser."

There were times I wanted to hit my bandmates over the head. It was taking every last bit of strength I had to keep from losing my temper. "Pizzazz, how did she get arrested? You have a bandmate who's a lesbian, remember? I'm trying to avoid going to jail myself, if you care to recall. It would help me out if I knew how she got arrested!"

I sounded snippy, I knew, and Pizzazz did not react well to it. Her words were fierce. "Yeah, I know you're a dyke, Stormer. I seem to remember that we're going to be tearing up my mansion and forcing me to grovel in front of Jem -- all for your sake!" She took a breath and added, "Clash said she was at some gay bar when they arrested everybody. I told you to avoid those places."

"So, I take it that you're not going to help her?" Jetta asked.

"No way. She ain't one of us. And I've done enough to help the Lesbian Nation today!"

With that, Pizzazz stomped off.

Later on, safely in the privacy of my own room, I lost it. I took the flowers that Pizzazz had given me on the night of the concert, dried now, and ground them all up between my fingers. That felt good, so I then took the vase and smashed it against a wall. It was plastic though, so it merely bounced off the wall and tumbled to the ground. Next, I hoisted up a chair and threw it across the room. It crashed against a wall and hit a nightstand on its way down to the floor. I reached the small bookcase in my room and knocked all of the books onto the floor.

It was so unfair. Pizzazz was mad at me, as if all of this was my fault! I couldn't stand the way she talked down to me, acted like she was doing me more favors than I could ever make up for. I was also furious at the society we lived in. I was made out to be a criminal and yet Pizzazz -- who has slept with dozens and dozens of men -- is considered to be just fine. I haven't ever even kissed a woman. My anger was fueled partly by my pent-up needs for affection.

And Pizzazz wouldn't do anything to help Clash. Maybe helping her would have been risky but I didn't get the slightest impression that fear was her main reason for hanging up on Clash. It was more like she couldn't be bothered because Clash wasn't one of us. I knew the girl had let us down countless times, but she also had done a lot for this band over the years. Pizzazz's brutally sarcastic closing comment, "I've done enough for the Lesbian Nation today!" kept replaying in my mind.

But breaking furniture isn't my forte and I didn't really enjoy smashing things, not anymore. It didn't make me feel any better. The rage and sorrow still battled inside of me. I did relish crumbling the dried flowers though.

Then I reached for my synth.

88888888888

After Pizzazz and Stormer had each gone off alone, Roxy and Jetta remained in the main hall. They looked at each other and exchanged a few words. Neither wanted to end the night that way. Jetta had an idea.

88888888888

Pizzazz paced about outside, walking around the pool. She wished she could throw one of the servants into the pool. She really wished she could throw Stormer into the pool. Or Clash. Or anybody.

It had stopped raining. The air outside felt charged and crisp. She tried to breathe it in. It was very quiet.

Pizzazz did not know what to do with the torrent of emotions that assaulted her. One by one they formed a fierce onslaught against her psyche. She continued to pace, trying to cope with the emotions.

Fear was prevalent. The future lay ahead, completely unknown and beyond her control and full of forces conspiring against her.

The sense of betrayal was overwhelming. It seemed as though no one told her anything until they had to, until they wanted something from her. And Riot betrayed her as well. 'But did he?' Pizzazz wondered. Can someone who was never on my side, ever, really betray me?'

Then the sense of embarrassment and shame took over, and it did not stem solely from Riot's actions. Soon Pizzazz would be groveling in front of Jem, the woman who had defeated her over and over again, the woman who had constantly proven that Pizzazz's mother was right and little Phyllis was trash.

Self-hatred bubbled to the top, for Pizzazz felt weak given that she allowed herself to care for that complete wimp Stormer. She had already bent over backwards to try to take care of her. She had already once before gone into enemy territory to get her back.

And the omnipresent anger remained. 'That ingrate Stormer had the gall to get testy with me, after everything I've done for her! And she's the one who's got a brother who adores her. I never had anything like that.'

Pizzazz collapsed onto one of the lawn chairs, exhausted and unable to decide what to do next. The chair was dry; the servants had covered all of the pool furniture before the rain began. Pizzazz did not even feel like tossing around any of the furniture. She had thrown enough tantrums in her life to know, on some level, that breaking things provides only a temporary respite. She had no idea how long she had paced around the pool or how long since she'd slumped down on one of the chairs.

"There you are," called a far-too-cheery voice highlighted with a British accent.

Pizzazz looked up to see Jetta and Roxy standing over her. They each held two drinks.

"Here," Roxy said, thrusting one drink in her direction. "Margarita."

Pizzazz wordlessly took the drink. She licked the salt off the sides. It was her favorite part; she preferred it to the sweetness of the fruity drink itself.

"This sucks," Pizzazz finally mumbled.

"What? The drink?" Jetta asked, sounding mildly affronted. She had made the margaritas herself, ensuring that she rolled the glasses in extra salt.

"No. I mean…just everything."

Roxy sat down on the lounger next to her and nodded. "I hear ya. Things suck really bad now."

"You said it," Jetta said, with a nod in Roxy's direction. She took a swig of her drink.

The three continued to drink silently. Pizzazz stared glassy-eyed at the moonlight reflected in the pool. Its sparkle reminded her of the glittery diamonds on the bracelet that her bandmates had given her. The bracelet made her think of the flowers she had given them on the night of concert, and what they symbolized. Pizzazz pitched her glass into the pool.

Roxy and Jetta, surprised, looked at the singer. Pizzazz shrugged and nabbed the fourth glass. She began to chug. I'm becoming such a wimp,' she told herself disgustedly.

"So Clash is a big ole' dyke," Roxy broke the silence, taking a swig of her drink.

"Does that really surprise you?" Jetta asked incredulously. "I always suspected it," she stated, truthfully.

"Yeah?" Pizzazz asked skeptically. She actually was not a big drinker and her cheeks were beginning to grow pink from the alcohol's influence.

"Oh come on. She followed us around, fawning over us like a ruddy puppy dog. She never had a boyfriend. You add it all up and what do you get? I think she particularly fancied you, Pizzazz."

"Hmph. Well I can't blame her," Pizzazz said, a bit piqued. She licked more salt off the rim of her glass. "But it doesn't matter, we're not gonna rescue her."

"I wonder how long she'll be in the slammer," Roxy mused. She did not particularly care about Clash but she wondered if Clash's fate could provide some clues about how Stormer might be treated if she were ever arrested.

A sound then began to dance through the night. It was unmistakable – Stormer's keyboard playing. With the window to Stormer's room open, the smooth melody drifted through the quiet air.

"Not too bad," Roxy remarked, after a minute or two.

"It's way too slow. If she wants me to sing it, she'd better pick up the pace," Pizzazz griped.

"I hope this slow song doesn't mean she's planning on making more music with that muppet Kimber again," Jetta added. Once the words were out, Jetta regretted them. Pizzazz did not like to be reminded of Stormer's previous defection. And this was the second time today that someone had mentioned it. Jetta inwardly kicked herself for her forgetfulness. She usually exhibited more thoughtfulness regarding her words.

The three sat in silence, continuing to drink and listen. Stormer's keyboard carried on. Now she switched to a faster paced song, the notes of which sounded familiar.

"Much better," Pizzazz said.

"Sounds like a variation on one of the songs we did in the studio today," Jetta added. She marveled at Stormer's ability. Jetta could create music and improvise but not at the frequency of Stormer, who never seemed to run out of ideas. Stormer was like a well that never ran dry, and Jetta had never encountered a musician/composer so prolific and so consistently strong during all of her years in the music world.

Roxy looked at Pizzazz. "C'mon," she suggested. "Let's bring her a margarita. We can jam with her."

"Okay," Pizzazz agreed. She did not sound thrilled, but she consented. The uncomfortable emotions were still swirling around inside her. But the alcohol was giving her a pleasant buzz and helping to loosen her up. She could even admit to herself that a loud jam session might make her feel better.

As Roxy grabbed the pitcher, she hoped that Stormer would want the company. Of course she will,' Roxy said to herself. She understood her friend well. Stormer always wanted to patch things up, she always wanted a happy ending.

Roxy, Jetta, and Pizzazz made their way inside and up the main staircase. Roxy tapped on Stormer's door.

"Care for some company, luv?" Jetta asked, when Stormer opened the door a tad.

"Uh – are you okay in here?" Roxy asked, surveying the trashed room. She turned and looked at Jetta and Pizzazz. Stormer was not known for throwing fits.

"Yeah. Swell," replied Stormer.

Later on that night (or technically, during the early hours of the morning), Jetta and Roxy found themselves in the kitchen making another margarita pitcher. They staggered back up to Stormer's room where the four Misfits continued to drink and play until the sun came up.

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I enjoyed that night. I liked drinking and jamming with my bandmates after our long, exhausting day. I knew full well that we were trying to wordlessly patch things up between Pizzazz and myself, and say that everything was going to be all right for the four of us.

But I also knew that margaritas and music alone wouldn't cut it either.

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TO BE CONTINUED

Your feedback and comments are always appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

**SURVIVAL OF THE MISFITS**

**Chapter Four**

_With thanks to beta testers Severine and Denisia_

The day after her long discussion with Craig, Aja was determined to speak with Ashley. As usual, Ashley was harried during her morning preparations for school. Ashley's alarm always rang at the last possible moment. Aja knew their talk would need to wait until after Ashley returned from classes.

Aja looked at her "to do" list for the day. Craig would be at his job during that day and practicing with his band in the evening. Aja knew they wouldn't have much time together that day, though they would talk on the phone in the evening. That was fine for now since Aja had plenty of responsibilities towards Starlight House to attend to. Chores were divided up among the Starlight girls and the Holograms. She also knew that she needed to make some time to practice the guitar solo in the Holograms' latest song

Aja was breaking down boxes for recycling when Shana entered the garage.

"Hi Shana," Aja greeted her friend.

"Hi." To an outsider, Shana's expression appeared unreadable, but Aja knew that her friend was upset about something.

"What's wrong?" Aja asked.

"Just frustrated," Shana said, as she slumped down on a dusty chair. "I've been working on the bridesmaids' dresses but my sewing machine is really on its last legs. I think I need to start saving for a new one. Of course the ones I really want are so pricey. And I can't find a good photographer and stay within the wedding budget."

Most of Shana's waking hours were spent on wedding preparations and she was finding none of it easy or simple. Although she and Anthony were financially better off than most in this recession, they still had to monitor their expenses closely.

"Did you talk to that guy Video recommended?" She took her blade and sliced the tape that held the box together. She then hoisted the flattened cardboard and added it to the pile inside the recycler.

"Yeah, and he sounds like he'd be the best but his prices would blow the budget. Maybe Jerrica's right. If we have Video taping it, do we really need a photographer too?"

"Heck yeah, if you ask me!" Aja said. "A video is fantastic, but I can't even imagine not having actual photos too. And if Video's taping the wedding, then she can't be doing much in terms of taking pictures. I really think you need a separate photographer," she insisted.

She loved Jerrica but sometimes her friend could be so stingy. Shana was the first of their group to be getting married (not counting Kimber's aborted wedding to Jeff, which seemed almost dreamlike to Aja given the whirlwind speed with which it had all been over). This was not a time to pinch pennies, no matter how closely they needed to watch their expenditures. Aja reminded herself to temper her irritation at Jerrica. Jerrica was only keeping in mind the best interests of the Starlight Girls, trying to save for costs such as their education and health insurance.

"I know," Shana said. "I really want a photographer too."

Aja noticed the tired look in her friend's eyes. "I've got an idea! I know you don't like to haggle over prices. I'll go back there with you and see if I can get him to come down." Aja recognized that her friend did not always assert herself.

"Would you?" Shana asked hopefully.

"Of course!"

"Aja, you are the best! You're really good at that sort of thing," Shana enthused, rising from her chair and giving her friend an impromptu hug. She smiled and laughed as she said, "You know I love Anthony dearly and he's so wonderful, but….wedding preparations aren't his thing."

Aja shook her head. "Well, he's not the only one. Most guys don't get so involved in the planning. I've heard it always tends to fall on the woman's shoulders."

"Well, Anthony's so busy right now with this shoot in New York. I hate to give him more work." Anthony had been spending the better part of the last few weeks on location in New York and he had a ways to go before his movie would be finished.

"Yeah, but you're busy too," Aja gently reminded her. "Playing in a band and keeping this place running aren't easy – especially with Mrs. Bailey deciding to go part-time now."

Shana nodded as she sat back down onto the chair. "True. At least I've finished my chore list for the week though," she said, with pride in her voice.

Aja playfully and jealously mocked Shana, imitating her voice and taunting, "I've finished my chore list for the week."

Shana laughed. "I take it you've still got a way to go with yours?"

Aja tossed her an extra blade. Shana caught the plastic-covered tool and got to work in assisting Aja with breaking down boxes.

"So how are things with Craig?" she asked.

"Oh, same as usual. Wonderful," Aja said. She couldn't help but to break out into a grin.

"He seems like a very nice guy," Shana said. She craned her head around in both directions, as if ensuring they were alone inside the garage. The garage door was open and sunlight pleasantly streamed in, but no Starlight Girls could be seen outside.

Aja looked away from her friend and focused on the next box in front of her. Shana's words may have sounded harmless but Aja knew that a small storm was brewing.

"Do you think it's going to be weird, what with Stormer being his sister?" Shana asked.

"What, did you and Kimber rehearse together?" Aja quipped. "She just asked me that, the other day. I told her that it could be a little awkward, because of how long we were rivals with the Misfits. But they've been fine since they called that truce. They didn't cause any problems at the Lin-Z show or any of the other publicity we did with them. And Stormer's always been the nicest anyway. I don't think it will be a problem."

"Hm," Shana said.

Aja stomped on the box to flatten it out so it would better fit inside the recycler. She knew that more was coming from her bandmate.

"Well what about," Shana began after a moment or two, "the whole thing with Stormer and her…little secret?" Shana asked. She said the words with a lopsided smile and sounded decidedly uncomfortable.

Aja lifted the flattened box and tossed it onto the pile. "I guess," she began, "the fact that my boyfriend has a gay sister doesn't bother me too much."

"Well, I know – I mean, I understand that it's not Craig's fault. But if Stormer has something in her genes…or in her DNA or whatever…that makes her into a homosexual, don't you think that maybe Craig carries it too? What if it's something that could be passed on to your children? You need to think of the long-term."

Aja turned and faced her friend, ceasing her work with the boxes. "I don't know right now if Craig and I will ever marry each other. I think there's a good chance of it though. If we do marry and if we do have children, I guess there's a possibility that one of them could be gay. I don't know; I'm not a geneticist. I guess that possibility doesn't worry me too much right now."

Aja was angry. She had tried to keep her voice even because she didn't want to lose her temper again. She'd done it several times before and she knew that it really upset Shana. And Aja inwardly applauded herself over the fact that she had not brought up Anthony's family. He had a brother whom Aja had met twice and found to be arrogant and even a bit aggressive. She wasn't exactly looking forward to having Anthony's brother in the family.

"Look I'm not trying to bash Craig or his sister," Shana began. "You know that I have a lot of respect for Craig. He's a great drummer too," she added, with sincere admiration. "I just think this is something you should think about." She paused and then added, "It's just that it's…it's not natural. About Stormer…it's wrong."

Aja shrugged. "You're certainly entitled to your opinion though I gotta say that I don't agree with it this time. And it certainly isn't going to keep me from marrying Craig, if that's what we ever decide to do." Aja went up to her friend and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Look, Shana, I respect your opinion but we might just have to agree to disagree on this," she said quietly. "Besides. It's way too early to even be thinking about marriage. Craig and I are definitely serious with each other but we have a long way to go before we'll be talking rings. You and Anthony knew each other for years before you got engaged."

Shana nodded and smiled. "I'm glad you understand. And I'm not trying to….to, I don't know, put a damper on your relationship or anything like that. I just wanted you to start thinking about these things. But Craig is a nice man and I like him."

Although Shana remained in the garage to help Aja finish her chores, that interaction left a bitter taste in her mouth. And after Ashley returned from class that afternoon, Aja found herself in the midst of her second uncomfortable conversation that day.

Aja at first tried to dance around the issue, asking Ashley if she had overheard "anything" recently, prior to one of the aerobics sessions. Ashley seemed confused by the questioning. Aja, never one who enjoyed being indirect, could not read Ashley's expression.

Finally Aja asked, "The other day Kimber and I were in the gym. We were talking about Stormer. I thought you might have overheard what we said." She paused, looking intently at Ashley, and asked, "Did you?"

Aja thought she saw a spark pass through the girl's eyes. But then her expression clouded over and Ashley swore that she had not overheard them discussing anything about Stormer, or anyone else.

"I got there a little early and I was putting on my aerobic shoes, but I didn't hear you or Kimber like dishing any dirt on anyone or talking about anything private. I remember that Kimber was there kinda early, which was weird. But that's it," Ashley said. Aja noticed that Ashley kept her eyes averted.

Aja decided to leave it at that. She knew it was possible that Ashley might not have been telling the truth but she had to rely on the fact that the girl had been honest and generally reliable during the past few years.

"Well, if you ever do overhear us talking about…things that sound as though they should stay secret, I'm sure you would keep it secret as well. Right? After all, it could be very dangerous…for all of us….if some secrets aren't kept." Aja knew her words came across strong and clear.

Ashley promised that she would, and then Aja left the girl's room.

Walking down the hall, Aja then nearly ran into Raya. "You'll never guess who Jerrica just got off the phone with," Raya said. "Pizzazz!"

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"Pizzazz?"

Moments later, Aja found herself standing with the other Holograms inside Jerrica's study. She found herself repeating the name of the Misfits' lead singer, shocked that Pizzazz would have called Starlight House.

"I guess there's a first time for everything," Aja said. "I don't think Pizzazz has ever called here before."

"Oh, she called here once before," Shana reminded the group, arms folded in front of her chest. "She and the others called to give me a little pep talk before the big fashion contest in Italy," she said sarcastically. The incident may have occurred years ago but Shana would never forget it.

"What did she want today?" Aja asked.

"She called to request a meeting, with the Misfits and Jem. She said the Holograms are invited, if you guys want to be there," Jerrica said. Jerrica shook her head. "A meeting," she repeated, incredulously. "As if we're going to sit down and discuss a business proposal."

"Did she say what it's going to be about?" Kimber asked. She was dying to know, and considering calling Stormer to get the scoop.

"No. She just said that it's important and she would like to meet as soon as possible. I told her that I'd find Jem – and the Holograms – and get back to her."

"I'd like to be at that meeting," Kimber said.

The rest of the Holograms agreed.

"I'm glad," Jerrica said. "I'd like you all there as well." She shrugged. "I guess it's settled. I'll call her back and tell her we can meet tonight."

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At night, the view from Jerrica Benton's office in Starlight Music was breathtaking. The lights of the city sparkled against the dark sky as the hustle and bustle of the music world's hubbub emanated.

The city did not shine as brightly as it once did, however. Fewer cars and people filled the streets. Many nearby businesses had closed; others dimmed lights which were not in use, in an effort to pinch every dollar. Even the skies were quieter than before, as fewer airplanes traversed the sky in this repressed atmosphere.

Stinger Sound, however, still blared its Stingers logo; the lights and images of the band pulsed brazenly across the street from Starlight Music. The flashing lights were visible inside Jerrica's office.

Nine women sat around the new oval-shaped conference table in Jerrica's office. While a hologram of Jerrica silently sat behind her desk, ostensibly reviewing reports, Jem and the Holograms and the Misfits were positioned around the nearby table

"Great concert we had last week," Stormer began, once everyone was settled.

"Yes!" Jem enthused, as bubbly as ever. Roxy wanted to gag. "We were very pleased with the audience's reaction. And how we raised a lot of money for two good causes."

"So were we," Pizzazz commented, sounding less convincing than Jem.

Awkward silence prevailed for a few moments before Kimber added, "I talked to the director of Housing USA and he was thrilled with the check."

"We got some great publicity too," Aja added. She, like so many in the room, found the evening somewhat surreal. Despite having done a few publicity events prior to the benefit with the other two bands, and despite dating the brother of a Misfit, finding herself sitting around a table and civilly chatting with her former rivals was not normal. She eyed all of them. Stormer was the only one she could say she remotely liked. She gazed at Roxy's brittle exterior and Jetta's hard to read eyes. She looked at Pizzazz and remembered all of the attacks the singer had spearheaded against Aja and those she loved the most.

After a few more moments of silence ambled by, Pizzazz took a breath. "You helped us out on that night," she began. "The night of the concert. Um….well. Thank you. For doing that."

"You're welcome," Jem smiled. She looked content and confident.

This was excruciating, Pizzazz thought. Words failed her at describing the mental torment. She would rather have half of her teeth yanked out by pliers than continue this. 'Stormer owes me her immortal soul. She owes me her firstborn child…' Pizzazz's thoughts ceased. Stormer probably wouldn't be having any kids.

"Can you help us again?" Pizzazz asked, despising how weak she surely sounded. "We – uh – we wanted to ask you, Jem, to talk to Riot. You see….the Stingers are after us."

Pizzazz proceeded to tell the band the reasons the Misfits suspected that the Stingers were behind the appearance of the Morality Office on the night of the concert. She added that they had "a friend who was good with computers" who had found some information that not only validated their suspicious but also clearly showed that Riot was still trying to trap the Misfits.

"So we," Pizzazz continued, "need them to….stop attacking us. We don't want Stormer to go to jail. We just want Riot off our asses."

"So you're coming to us to ask me to talk to him," Jem stated.

"Yes," Pizzazz said.

"He won't listen to us, Jem," Stormer began softly. "As far as we can tell, he won't listen to anyone except you. I think that if you asked him to lay off, then he would." She paused and said, "I know there's a lot of bad blood between our groups. But I hope you might consider helping us out."

Jem did not hesitate with her reply "Of course I'll help," Jem said. "We don't want anything bad to happen to you, Stormer. I'll talk to Riot. But I have to warn you that I don't know how much good it's going to do. He might not agree to help."

Kimber faced her singer and looked glum. "You know, what if Riot says something stupid like, he'll agree to stop attacking only if you…say you'll be his forever? Or something like that."

"I'll do the best I can to appeal to his sense of right and wrong. He's not all bad," Jem insisted. Aja fought the urge to roll her eyes. "He helped us locate Ba Nee's father when he had no reason to do it."

"Other than to curry favor with you," Aja mumbled. She did not appear optimistic about Jem's odds for success, nor did she have an ounce of respect or liking for Riot.

"You could always remind him of the money we bring in," Roxy offered. "He gets us in the slammer, then his record company loses one of its top selling acts."

"And I've heard that Stinger Sound isn't in much better financial shape than many other businesses right now," Jetta added.

"You might also be able to convince him that the Morality Office can turn on the Stingers someday too," Stormer began. "Riot even said – when we met with him originally -- that they wanted to review all the lyrics to their new songs."

"They gave us a list of a few songs that we weren't allowed to perform at the benefit too," Kimber said, impressed with how articulate and confident Stormer sounded. She also noted that the Misfits appeared to be functioning much more like a democracy than before. Stormer had told her that they had been moving in that direction for a while now.

She still didn't like any of them except Stormer though.

Jem said, "I will talk to Riot tomorrow and do my best to convince him. Um, Pizzazz," she began, "I wanted to ask something of you now. Two of our Starlight Girls will be graduating high school this summer. They'd like to go on to college, but Starlight House is really hurting for money and college tuition is just exorbitant. Can I interest you in making a contribution to Starlight House, to help our girls get the education they need?"

"Just send me the bill," Pizzazz said. She couldn't describe why, but for some reason Jem's thinly veiled request of tit-for-tat felt like a relief. She now "owed" Jem less.

Jetta listened to Pizzazz's comment and once more marveled at her lead singer's financial resources. Growing up, she had to examine the price tags on everything before she bought it. She shoplifted several times and thankfully never got caught. Her parents wracked up their own debts, never providing their Sheila with more than the necessities. Yet Pizzazz didn't even have to ask how much money Jem was requesting.

"One other thing," Aja began. "Craig talked to me about the idea of outfitting a room in your mansion," she said, looking in Pizzazz's direction. She nearly blinked because she thought perhaps she saw a glint or two of humility in those piercing green eyes. "To create a hiding space. We might not need to do that if Riot backs off --- but just in case, I think it's a really good idea. I'll start on this whenever you want. Craig will help too."

Stormer felt a surge of affection for the woman who might someday be her sister-in-law. "Thank you, Aja," she said, her sincerity obvious.

"You can start whenever. I'll tell the butler to expect you," Pizzazz said.

Aja's ears perked up at Pizzazz's words. She thought she now may have sensed an iota of gratitude from the singer.

"And I'll help however I can," added Stormer. "Roxy offered to pitch in too."

Aja raised an eyebrow over that last one. She was surprised at Roxy's willingness to help and not at all looking forward to working with her. Craig hadn't mentioned this.

The meeting was obviously coming to a close. Stormer shot a look at Pizzazz. Pizzazz had to keep from making a face or sighing.

"Well, um…thank you again," Pizzazz managed, looking in Jem's direction. She couldn't wait to get out of there.

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I knew I should've been happy. But really I felt more humiliated than anything else. We had to go and ask them for help, and it's like everyone in the room knew that I was queer and that we Misfits needed Jem and the Holograms to help. It put the Misfits in a bad place compared to the Holograms, and it put me in a bad place within my band. It made me feel so naked and so ashamed.

No one gave me any dirty looks or said anything; the Holograms were as pleasant as ever. My own band was, well, just about as supportive as they are capable of being. I guess it's just the idea of it all.

I knew Pizzazz was still pissed at me. She likely would be so for a long time unless something changed. We were pretty quiet on our car ride back.

When we returned to the mansion, the others parked in front of the TV as I ordered pizza for us. I then got to work on preparing a salad. I used a tray to carry in the bowls brimming with lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, carrots (except in Jetta's dish – she doesn't like them) dressed with ranch for Roxy and Jetta, and oil and vinegar and black pepper for Pizzazz. I took French dressing that night. "The pizza should be here in about 40 minutes," I informed the others. I knew they wouldn't be happy about the wait – and I was right; there was plenty of grumbling – which is why I'd made the salads.

They were watching a comedy station. Just as I sat down with my salad, more squirming moments came up when the first comedian totally started making fun of gay people. I tried to crunch my carrots extra loudly to drown him out, at least in my ears. I took another sip of my diet soda but the ice cubes had already dissipated and the drink wasn't cool enough to bring down my blushing. Some of what the comedian said was pretty gross too. And heaven forbid that anyone change the channel or even say anything about the bashing. Roxy even laughed at some of his gay jokes! (She does laugh at pretty much anything though. But still). I don't know what sort of looks they had on their faces; I couldn't even glance at my bandmates during this, I was so humiliated. I just looked down at my salad and crunched the cold veggies.

I was glad when that comedian was done. But two comedians later, there was more gay bashing. At least this one wasn't as crass but the "humor" was no less mean-spirited. Once again, I wanted to crawl under the sofa. Once again, no one said or did anything. I waited until this comedian was done and then wordlessly went to my room.

No one followed me.

I knew that my bandmates cared about me, and I knew that showing it wasn't easy for them. They probably weren't perceptive enough to detect the mood I was in, that the day's events – topped off by the homophobic comedy – were taking their toll. (Well, Jetta should've known because she's very good at getting inside all of our heads. But for whatever reason, she didn't do anything to comfort me. Maybe she, like Pizzazz, was a little ticked at me for putting our band in a bad place compared to Jem and the Holograms. Maybe she just didn't feel like doing anything more for me).

But I also knew that I was not alone. I picked up the telephone and dialed Starlight House. My day took a turn for the better when the woman I sought answered the phone herself.

"I just wanted to thank you," I said. "For what you and your group agreed to do."

"Well, it's the right thing to do," Kimber said. Her voice just always conveys a smile. "I'm glad to help you, and I know Jem feels the same way."

"Well…thanks again."

"So, how are you doing?" Kimber asked. "Are your bandmates giving you a hard time because they had to go asking us for help?"

"No, they're….well, they're alright. They're not giving me a hard time." I paused. Kimber was quiet too, as if waiting for me to say more. So then I said it. "But they're not exactly being supportive either."

"That sucks," Kimber said. "Are you alright?"

"I guess I'm okay. It's just that the whole thing….makes me feel weird. You know, what if Riot doesn't agree to stop? What if something happens?"

"You must be feeling scared now," Kimber said. Her voice sounded like a hug.

"I am scared, but I think more than that, I'm getting angry."

"Well, I know you don't usually write song lyrics, but maybe you should try it. Why not write about how you feel? Put it on paper and turn it into a song. That always makes me feel better."

"I dunno. I'm a lot better with composing music than writing lyrics."

"Yeah, but why not try something new? I read this really cool article– I can't remember where it was from– but it said something like stepping out of your comfort zone opens up these, um, neural pathways or something inside your brain. Doing something you don't normally do can force your mind to work in new ways. I thought the article sounded cool. It made me want to learn to play a new instrument or maybe do something outrageous like paint!"

I wished I could've been there to give Kimber a hug. As soon as we got off the phone, I took out pen and paper.

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Riot was in bed when Jem called the following day. He did not answer the phone, however, as his two blonde companions were keeping him quite occupied.

"Just ignore it," Minx whispered, upon hearing the phone ring. She resumed what she had been doing before to her lead singer.

Riot turned her head towards Rapture and smothered her with another kiss. He silently felt grateful for his attractive bandmates. Sleeping with them was so much better and easier than bedding fans. Minx and Rapture knew what he liked, and he didn't have to spend any time teaching them. They were so easy to please as well. The fans were too but still, it was all the more simple with Minx and Rapture.

However, faced with the prospect of seeing Jem, Riot forgot all about his bandmates. After he received her message, he waited at Stingers Sound eagerly, hardly able to wait to hear what she had to say.

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Jerrica Benton dashed into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She threw open the cabinet and rummaged around for a candle. Knocking over several cosmetics, medicines, and tiny shampoo bottles taken from hotel rooms, she soon realized that no matches could be found. Resigned to having no candle, she lunged for the bathtub's controls and turned on the water. At least she had bubble bath, vanilla scented. Stripping off her clothes and leaving them piled on the bathroom floor, she slid into the tub.

Jerrica was determined to use the twenty-five minutes she had free before her next "to do" item. 'I've got to relax,' she reminded herself. 'The doctor told me that, if I don't want to go to an early grave like my dad did.'

She closed her eyes and tried to enjoy the warmth of the water and the subtly-scented vanilla bubbles. Yet Jerrica's thoughts swirled around her mind. 'Okay, Rio will be here in a half an hour for our dinner. We haven't had dinner together in so long. I've gotta make sure we go over the arrangements with the new band we've signed. He's leaving on tour with the singer Amanda Sikes in a few days. Seems like solo acts are doing better than bands nowadays – maybe we gotta look at signing more of them. But back to dinner with Rio, well I am way too beat to cook so I hope he doesn't mind going out. We can't afford a really fancy place. Maybe I can convince him to go for burgers and fries. Rio's never been into posh restaurants anyway. Though I gotta go easy on the junk food if I'm going to still fit into my suits. Maybe I'll just have half a burger and convince Rio to eat most of my fries. That won't be hard.'

Her thoughts continued to race as she soaked in the soothing bubbles. 'The meeting with Riot went well,' Jerrica told herself. 'I still get so excited when he's around and when I'm Jem. Jem handled herself – or, I handled myself – very well. He agreed to stop going after the Misfits. I suppose I have to call Pizzazz but that's just going to have to wait until after dinner with Rio! It's not like I owe Pizzazz anything.'

'Riot's so attractive when I'm Jem. I still find him attractive when I'm Jerrica but less so. I love the way he looked into my eyes and said, "Anything for you." Jem has such power. She – er, I – didn't even need to go into the list of reasons I had ready to convince him to stop attacking. He just heard the request and said he would do it for her.'

'I have a business meeting tomorrow morning with my senior staff. Why in the heck did I schedule it at 8:00 a.m.? I dread what my Finance Director is going to tell me. Which reminds me – I should read his preliminary report before the meeting. Forget it, skip that. I'll ask him to summarize at the meeting. I know it's not going to be good news anyway.'

'So where are we at on Shana's wedding? I gotta talk to her. Though I assume she'd tell me if something was wrong. I remember she said something about problems with the photographer – I should ask her. Or maybe Video can step in and help. What did we decide to do again about me and Jem at the wedding? Oh yes, both of us will be there but one of us will be only a hologram. That's going to be tough to handle but we can manage – we always do. I want to go as Jem. Maybe Jerrica can have a bad cold and leave right after the ceremony. That's it – she can skip the reception. Rio always has more fun with Jem anyway. Or maybe I should ask Shana what she'd prefer – it is her wedding. I have to check with Shana on the security arrangements. I don't want a ton of media there, and neither does Shana. And I should check in with her on the budget as well.'

'Budgets. Which reminds me that I need to go over Starlight House's balance sheets again. If Pizzazz comes through with that check, we should be okay for the next six months, including college for the two girls. It's going to be really lean after that unless Jem and the Holograms can go on another tour. But we'll have to bring home more money than on the last one – we barely broke even with it. I wish I could do something about this miserable economy.'

'I haven't had a chance to talk to Aja yet about the computer. I know she's going to say we need to upgrade to a new one. There's got to be another band-aid she can put on it though. Maybe Synergy can help too. Which reminds me, I need to back up more of my files to her.'

'I also need to talk to Kimber and see how she's coming on new songs. We should have enough for a new album soon, but again a tour isn't going to make sense if the economy doesn't get better. And I've got to spend more time practicing with the group on the latest numbers.'

'Did I ever thank Mrs. Alonso for that dessert she brought over? I don't even remember what it was called – something in Spanish. Better ask Raya.'

Jerrica's train was interrupted by a knock. "Rio's here," Terri called.

"Oh shit!" Jerrica said. She was embarrassed to have realized that she spoke aloud and hoped that Terri hadn't heard the expletive. She then quickly added, "I'll be right there!"

Relaxation would have to wait.

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Pizzazz reached for the phone. The butler James told her that a Jerrica Benton was on the line. She tried to keep her voice even and aim for a modicum of courtesy.

"Hello?"

Jerrica was surprised that Pizzazz hadn't answered with a 'Yeah?'

"It's Jerrica Benton. Pizzazz, I heard from Jem. She spoke with Riot today."

"How did it go?"

"Jem said it went well. She said that Riot agreed to stop attacking your group. He gave Jem his word to break off contact with the Morality Office and stop going after your band. Jem is confident that he was telling the truth and that he will keep to his word."

"Really? That…well, that's great."

"Yes."

Pizzazz could tell that Jerrica was waiting for something. "I wrote up the check for you. You want me to mail it or you wanna pick it up?"

"Maybe Aja can pick it up when she and Craig come by to work on….the room."

"Yeah, sure."

Several awkward pauses and silences. Pizzazz knew what she had to say and loathed it. She resolved to yell at Stormer after this.

"Well, then. Thanks, Jerrica. Thank Jem for me."

"I will. And thank you for supporting the education of the Starlight Girls."

Pizzazz put down the phone, feeling ill. She had a strong urge to make Stormer pay for this.

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The following day, Aja and Craig headed for the Gabor mansion. James greeted them, gave them Pizzazz's check, and -- as per Pizzazz's instructions – led them through a complete tour of the estate. Craig had already seen the place but still marveled at its size. He wasn't working at his shipping job today nor did his band have a gig in the evening, and thus his day was free.

He had called his sister in advance and arranged a time when all of the Misfits would be away. The band was at the studio. Aja told Craig that for this initial visit, there was no need for Stormer or any of them to pitch in and help yet. She needed to get a feel for the place and an idea of which room could be converted. Of course the couple had to be careful regarding what they said in James' presence.

"Thank you for the tour," Aja said to the butler, once they had walked the length of the mansion and viewed all the rooms.

"You are very welcome, Miss Leith. Miss Gabor said that you two may remain here as long as you'd like. If you need me, just pick up one of the house phones."

"Thank you," Aja said.

With that, James left Aja and Craig alone.

"What do you think?" Craig asked quietly, when certain James was out of earshot. Stormer had warned them to use discretion as a servant or two may be nearby at any point.

"I think it's a lot of wasted space owned by someone with more money than they know what to do with," Aja replied candidly. She thought of how many orphans or runaways could be housed in a place like this. Of course it would require staff and counselors to run it, but still. Jaded, Aja could not understand why the very rich neglected to share significant parts of their good fortune.

"But that's not why we're here," Aja continued. "I think some of the rooms in the east wing had potential."

"I saw that look on your face when we were there. Come on."

Moments later, the couple found themselves surveying one of the guest rooms. It was far larger than many houses' master bedrooms and furnished with stunning antiques. It boasted a fireplace and a massive, canopied bed. The ceilings were adorned with paintings, many of them extremely valuable. It was as dusty as most of the rest of the rooms though.

"This might work," Aja said, sticking her head inside the room's bathroom. It was larger than Aja's room at Starlight House. The floor was covered by a plush carpet. It contained a clawfoot tub that could easily fit two adults.

"When I first arrived in England, I think my entire apartment was about the size of this bathroom," Craig quipped. His estimate was not far off.

"I wonder why your sister and the others wouldn't want this room for their own."

"Their rooms are in the west wing. Near Pizzazz's. Yeah, I wonder. Mary's room isn't this big."

"Maybe what we do is convert the bathroom," Aja mused. "It's certainly big enough. It already has the plumbing in it. We could leave the bedroom part alone and just convert the bathroom. It could be made into a cozy apartment. We can seal the door and create a hidden passageway." She added, with a smile, "Sealing the door won't be hard but creating the passageway will be a challenge. I look forward to it though."

"Would someone wonder why this bedroom doesn't have its own bathroom though?" Craig speculated.

"Maybe so. There's one down the hall though. Or if we really want to fake 'em out, we can knock down the wall to the room next door and convert that into the bathroom. But that would be a lot of work and plumbing isn't my specialty. Maybe we can just combine the two rooms and make them into one mega-room."

"The bathroom doesn't have a window," Craig observed.

"Which is good from the standpoint of making this a hidden room. It won't be great for Stormer if she ever does have to spend extended time in here though."

"The thought still makes me shudder." Craig spoke truthfully. He felt a coldness in the pit of his belly at the thought of his sister ever having to go into hiding.

"I know. I hope it never comes to that. But we need to be prepared." Aja said resolutely.

The couple used a tape measure to determine the dimensions of the bathroom, its doorway, and the bedroom. Aja pulled her notebook out of her purse and jotted down the specifications. She made note of which tools she expected she would need.

Deciding she then could use a brief rest, Aja sat down on the floor of the room, leaning her back against the wall. She sat opposite the giant claw-footed bathtub. The thick carpet was comfortable to sit upon.

"This won't be so bad," Aja said, as her boyfriend sat next to her. "I think this project is completely do-able."

"Thank you again for working on this. I gotta admit," he began, with a laugh, "I think if I had to do this on my own I could muddle through it but I like having you behind the wheel."

"I like the idea of us teaming up," Aja smiled. "I think we make a good duo." She was glad to hear more signs of confidence in Craig's voice. Earlier he had seemed so insecure over this and over his unexciting day job.

"Aja," Craig began, after a moment of silence, "which of your bandmates are you closest to?"

The question took Aja aback. She smiled and asked, "Why do you ask?'

"Just wondering," he said, shrugging. "When I played in the Bluebloods, I liked the other guys okay, but I didn't ever…well, it was nothing like what you have with your band." Craig occasionally still kept in touch with his former bandmates, though their contact was sporadic at best. Long-distance phone calls were exorbitant and none of the members of the former band enjoyed written correspondence. And Craig was cordial with the members of his new group but he couldn't say that he felt signs of a strong bond among them either.

Aja nodded. "It's different for the Holograms. We're family." She then smiled teasingly and asked, "Which do you think I'm closest to?"

"Judging from the time I've spent with you and them….I think maybe Shana. Or Jerrica, even though she's not in the band. But I'm guessing it's Shana. You seem happier when she's around than when she's not."

Aja nodded. "I think you're right. I do love them all though. Growing up, it was me, Jerrica, and Shana. Once Shana came out of her shell and once we bonded, the three of us were inseparable. We were sisters, maybe not by blood but we were sisters. I didn't really start to feel that way about Kimber until she was older. Then it became the four of us." She stopped and then added, "Did I ever tell you about the pact that Jerrica, Shana, and I took?"

"The pact? No, I don't think you did."

Aja sounded wistful as she recounted the afternoon. "I don't know who's idea it was…maybe Jacqui's. We called Mr. and Mrs. Benton by their first names," she quickly added. "One day Jacqui officiated as the three of us climbed up into the tree house, held hands, and swore that we would always be good and true friends, and never let anyone come between us. We toasted it with lemonade."

"That's wonderful," Craig murmured. "You really have a bond with them."

"That's why we're more than just bandmates. I mean, the rest of the group is everything to me. When my parents died, I pretty much had nobody. Then I went to live with the Bentons and they gave me that home that I needed."

"Yet they never officially adopted you?" Craig asked softly.

Aja shook her head. "They couldn't. My grandfather had legal custody of me. But he was very elderly…he was older when my dad was born, so by the time my parents passed away, he was very old. I don't think he really wanted me, and I couldn't live with him. He couldn't really take care of me, so I went to live with the Bentons. I saw my grandfather maybe once every other month or so until he passed away. Actually it was less than that as I got older. He never relinquished custody of me though. By the time he did pass away, Jacqui had died already and Emmett's health was declining, so I don't think the idea of legally adopting me and Shana was top of mind for Emmet. It didn't matter though. They were already my family, whether it was legal or not."

"Do you hope to have children someday?"

Aja nodded. "I would definitely like to. I'd like to give birth to a child and then adopt one or two kids. Maybe older kids. What about you?" Aja's answer expressed what she truly hoped to do. She got the idea a few years ago from Shana. Shana wanted to experience childbirth but also wanted to adopt, in order to help another child like herself. When Shana expressed this idea, Aja was attracted to it and seized on it for herself.

"I haven't thought about it much," Craig admitted honestly. "But I think I'd be a good dad. I like being an older brother, so I hope that would mean I'd be a good father too."

"You'd definitely be a good one. You are kind and caring and very strong. You'd make a wonderful dad." She paused and then asked, "What do you think of the idea of adopting?"

Craig shrugged. "I'd certainly be open to it. I think it could be harder than having your own child though."

"Oh, it almost certainly would be, unless you're able to adopt when the child is a baby. It's true that when you're adopting older children, you're probably going to have to give them more attention and work out more issues with them."

"Well, you were adopted – or, fostered -- at an older age and you seem pretty well adjusted," Craig said with an admiring smile.

"Emmett and Jacqui were pretty amazing parents. Jacqui spent so much time with all of us. She was quite a role model for any mother. And Emmett worked a lot but when he was home with us, he was really there for us. He didn't bring stuff from the office home."

Aja looked melancholy at memories of her deceased foster parents. Craig, his arm around her, changed the topic thinking that Aja might want to discuss something that entailed fewer painful memories. "When you were talking about Jerrica and Shana, I was wondering something. When you formed the band, how come Jerrica wasn't in it?"

"Well, Jerrica was always best at managing things. Even when she was a teenager she was always so…organized. So we knew she'd best serve as our manager rather than a member of the band. Plus she doesn't really play any instruments. Not at the level we do."

For a split-second, Aja thought of adding in a line such as, And we found Jem, so we didn't need a singer.' She silently cursed herself for nearly lying, and then nearly cursed Jerrica for the situation she put her band in.

"She is a great manager," Craig mused.

Aja nodded. Silence fell over the room for a few moments. Aja and Craig sat together contentedly, enjoying the body contact.

"I almost can't believe where I am," Aja mused, shaking her head slightly. "Inside Pizzazz's mansion."

"I know," Craig added. "After all her band put your band through. And here we are on enemy territory."

"I like your sister but I don't think anything would ever make me like her bandmates."

Craig nodded. "I still ask myself what Mary sees in them or why she wants to be with them. I tried many times to convince her to leave but she doesn't listen. Though I will say one thing in their defense."

"Oh?" Aja asked, raising an eyebrow or two.

"They didn't kick her out when….her secret came out. Mary said they were really good about the whole thing."

"Well they sure haven't exactly been saints themselves," Aja said, derisively. "They can't really criticize her given the things they've done in their lives."

"I know, but I still think it speaks well of them that they…helped Mary through this." Craig paused and then asked, "How do you think your bandmates would handle it if one of your band...came out?"

"I've never thought about it," Aja responded, truthfully. "I mean, I guess it's a moot point since none of us are gay. We all passed our blood tests," she added playfully.

"I know, but what if one of you hadn't? How would they take it if one of you was a lesbian?"

"Well, I think it would be awkward for us. None of us would be thrilled about it. But we all love and accept each other as we are. Sooner or later I think everyone would come around and be just fine with it. That's what family does."

Aja took a moment to mentally review each of her bandmates, trying to guess how they would react if one of them came out.

Shana held definite opinions on what was right and what was wrong. Shana always took things so personally too. She'd have the hardest time with it, Aja knew; their earlier conversations left little doubt of that. She was fiercely loyal, though, and that might help.

Kimber -- sweet, open, and going with the flow -- she'd be fine with it. She might feel a tad awkward at first given how much she herself liked guys, but she'd get over it real quick and support her bandmate. The emotional center of the band, no matter how immature Kimber was sometimes perceived as by her bandmates, the young songwriter knew the things that really counted.

Aja herself couldn't care less. That was pretty much all there was too it. In this environment, she knew that she was supposed to view homosexuality as immoral and disgusting, maybe even despicable. That's how so many people seemed to see it nowadays. Aja didn't know why but she didn't see anything repulsive about it; people were people and that was all there was to it in her eyes.

Business-like Jerrica...her main concern would be whether this would hurt the band and its popularity, whether her bandmate could be blackmailed and how a scandal might bring down the group. She would be concerned about her bandmate's emotional well-being too, but the business aspect would weigh heavily on her shoulders. What about Jem? Aja realized she often did think of them as two separate people. But she didn't see a difference between how Jerrica and Jem would react. Jem might have a slightly easier time of it than Jerrica because Jem didn't need to obsess over the financial performance of the group.

What about Raya? She was maybe a bit sheltered, not naive but sheltered. She would be uncomfortable with it, Aja decided, but she wouldn't let on much -- unlike Shana who would let it be known how she felt. Aja imagined that Raya might come around eventually and be accepting of her bandmate.

Overall, Aja thought that if one of the Holograms came out, it had the potential to weaken the group but she was certain they would be able to work it out. She also had to admit that from what she could tell, the Misfits were handling their own situation well

"That's good," Craig murmured in reply.

Silence again came upon them and they were quiet again. Aja noticed that she never felt awkward about their quiet moments though. Craig seemed comfortable too, she observed. She cuddled against him and delicately planted a few kisses on his cheek, his lips, and his ear. He turned towards Aja and whole-heartedly returned the kisses.

"That's an amazing bathtub," Aja commented after a while.

"It's huge," Craig added.

"I like the way it has an antique look but it's also got modern comforts. The inside reclines so you could lean your back against the surface. Looks like it's padded too."

"If Mary ever has to stay in here, at least she'll be able to take long baths," Craig added, grimly humorous.

An idea popped into Aja's head, and she vocalized it on the spur of the moment. "Wanna try it out?"

Craig did a double-take. "Try out…the bathtub?"

Aja blushed but couldn't restrain a grin. "Why not? It could be fun. Looks like there's some nice bubble bath on the counter."

A confused Craig tried to determine whether Aja was serious or not. He didn't think she would joke about this. "Well, sweetheart, I'd love to but….you know, I'm not a saint. We both get in there and….it would push my sense of restraint to the limit."

"Maybe we shouldn't be so restrained," Aja said, snuggling in even closer to Craig, pressing her body against his. She reached a hand around and slowly, deliberately caressed his chest and shoulders, marveling at the strength and well-defined muscles. She wished his T-shirt were made of a thinner cloth.

"So, are you saying you think you're ready?" Craig asked softly. He tried to not sound as eager as he felt. The bold moves of her hand were affecting him.

"Yes. I, uh – " She broke off awkwardly, but at Craig's urging, continued, "I realized something recently. I'm not Shana. I love her like a sister but I don't have to make the same decisions she did."

"Oh. You mean, she and Anthony haven't…."

"No, they did. But Shana waited till she had an engagement ring on her finger. I think the others all feel the same way too – about waiting until an engagement. But I decided that I don't have to agree with everything they think or do; I don't need to wait that long. Though I certainly could see us…going in that direction someday too."

"So could I," Craig said warmly. He had partially been trying to stall things a bit, wanting Aja – and himself -- to have a chance to think things over. But a real impediment now presented itself.

"What is it?" Aja asked, feeling him cool off.

"Well, I realized that we don't have any protection here," he observed.

"Oh," Aja said. She berated herself for not thinking of it. Her decision today had been spontaneous.

"I have some at home. You know, sweetie, maybe it would be better if we went back to my place anyway. I think that my home would be a much better place for this."

"You're right. It would suck if the butler walked in," Aja said with a giggle. "Or Pizzazz," she added, a truly nightmarish thought.

Craig smiled. "Though the bathtub at my place isn't as grand as this one. I do have a nice bed though."

"We'll have to make use of this tub another time," Aja said, smiling as they both leapt to their feet.

"And we'll bring a deadbolt for the door," he added.

During the car ride to the Phillips' house, fear began to set in for Aja and her resolve started evaporating. Holding Craig's free hand as he drove, she tried to brush the worry away. She had been warned that a girl's first time "usually isn't the way it appears in romance novels," as Shana had put it. She had been warned that it could be clumsy and downright painful. Aja worried about appearing inept in front of Craig. She also worried about her appearance; suspecting that guys really liked curves, Aja knew she was thin and not curvaceous at all. Her hand felt quite damp now.

She kept trying to squelch the fears, but by the time they reached the Phillips' house, Craig noticed the signs.

"Maybe we should wait on this," Craig suggested, as they entered through the front door.

"But I'm fine," Aja insisted.

"Your hands are shaking," he observed.

An embarrassed Aja noticed the truth of his statement. She wasn't comfortable feeling so vulnerable.

Craig stepped closer to his girlfriend and put a hand on her shoulder. "You know," he began softly, "you look to me like you're about 70 percent ready. And I think that when we make love for the first time, I want you to be 100 percent ready."

Aja nodded, appreciating his perceptivity. "You're right." She looked down. "You must be horribly disappointed."

"I am a bit, but I think it would be a lot worse if we went through with it and you weren't ready."

Aja shook her head, not meeting his eyes. "There's a name for a girl like me, who leads a guy on – "

"Aja!" Craig exclaimed.

"Why do you put up with me, again? I mean don't most girls nowadays put out on the first date? Or the third?"

"Hey, hey, Aja knock it off. What happened to the confident Aja that we know and love?" He reached for her and planted a chaste kiss on her lips. "We're okay. I'm totally fine with waiting."

Aja thanked Craig for his understanding. They soon left the house and headed for a hardware store to fetch supplies for their construction project.

TO BE CONTINUED

Please leave a review – I appreciate feedback.


	5. Chapter 5

**SURVIVAL OF THE MISFITS**

**Chapter Five**

Author's Notes:

This chapter contains some original song lyrics, never before published anywhere else. The lyrics were written by SchizoAuthoress and are being used here with explicit permission.

Thank you to my wonderful beta testers, Denisia and Severine.

If you enjoyed this chapter, please take the time to leave a review. Every review is appreciated no matter how short or long, and constructive criticism is always welcomed.

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I knew it was going to be a rotten day from the moment I woke up. My throat was scratchy, my nose was running like a faucet and I was coughing before I was even awake. Sometime between our pizza dinner, my composing session and the morning, I had developed one hell of a cold. Whatever bug was making me sick had invaded quickly.

We Misfits cleared out of the mansion for the day. We had a lot of work to do in the studio and also wanted to give Aja and Craig a wide berth. I don't think any of my bandmates wanted a run-in with Aja; the situation was so awkward. So we decided to head towards the studio.

On the way there, we stopped at a drug store to get me some tissues and cold medication, which I took eagerly. But even hours later, the non-drowsy pills didn't seem to be having much of an effect.

Pizzazz told us about Jerrica's phone call. We should have been jubilant – me more than anyone – but we weren't. I was so run-down from this cold, the embarrassment of the whole situation in general, and was still smarting over the gay-bashing from the comedians we watched on TV last night. Actually, I didn't care so much about what the comedians said but my bandmates' lack of reaction hurt more.

Of course when Pizzazz recounted her phone conversation with Jerrica, she threw a dirty look in my direction, again as if to remind me that all of this was my fault. She looked disgusted. I suspected she was pissed mainly at having to grovel in front of the (former?) enemy, but I also knew that I would bear the brunt of her irritation.

There was one bright spot to this crummy day. I was proud of the lyrics I wrote the previous night. I was very glad that Kimber had encouraged me. Usually I don't play a lead in terms of creating the lyrics – that's Pizzazz's role, whereas my realm is instrumentation. Only rarely did I write or embellish song lyrics. But what I did yesterday evening was a complete re-write of the words to one of the two new songs we had debuted at our triumphant benefit concert that fateful night.

The song was originally titled "Fast and Furious" and the lyrics had been, well, typical Pizzazz. But yesterday evening, I came up with a new title and more meaningful words:

_"Ain't Changin' Me"_

_You say it's wrong to be me_

_Baby, what's wrong with what you see?_

_What do you want me to do_

_Want me to think your lies are true?_

_I'm the best that there is, you ain't changin' me!_

_CHORUS: Why do you care so much_

_'Bout my past and who I love?_

_Why do you think you can judge?_

_Why is it wrong to be me?_

_You say it's right to be you_

_Baby, what are you tryin' to prove?_

_You just can't let me be_

_Why don't you open your eyes and see_

_I'm the best that there is, you ain't changin' me!_

_CHORUS_

_You say I'm wrong, that I don't belong_

_You can try to lead, but I won't go along_

_(Ain't changin' me) I am who I wanna be!_

_(Ain't changin' me) Nobody's better than me!_

_Baby, I am the best, you ain't changin' me!_

I knew that these were not typical Misfits' lyrics. But times had changed, and my bandmates respected my opinion. And if Pizzazz would only sing them in her typical commanding style, the song would be ours. It could be one of our best yet. So after we'd played a few songs and were taking a break, I pulled out the piece of paper.

"Hey guys," I began, my voice raspier than usual because of my cold, "I got something new to share with you." I got up and headed towards my bag where I had the piece of paper with the new lyrics.

"I hope it's better than Roxy's impromptu guitar solo last time," Jetta smirked.

I thought her comment needlessly nasty. But, in general, if Pizzazz isn't in a good mood, neither is Jetta and that said it all for today.

I began, "No, I re-wrote the lyrics for Fast– '"

But Roxy cut me off. She took a step towards Jetta and made a fist. "You know, Jetta I'm sick of listenin' to your crap. You don't even---"

And then Roxy was cut off when Pizzazz tossed her bass guitar. I think she was aiming for it to land somewhere between Roxy and Jetta. It looked like it grazed Jetta's shoulder before crashing to the ground.

"Hey!" Jetta exclaimed.

"Shut up both of you. Who needs another one of your fights?" Pizzazz grumbled.

I looked at Roxy's face. She was angry. Though she'd never admit it, she was, well, _sensitive_ about her music. She was proud of her guitar-playing and why not? She's a great guitarist. Her improvised solo that day hadn't been all that bad either. She turned to Jetta and, ignoring Pizzazz's warning, totally went off on our saxophonist.

Jetta, not one to sit and allow herself to be berated, counter-attacked. Pretty soon Roxy was shouting, and Jetta was shouting back. There was lots of name-calling. Both of them sounded almost weary, as if they were too fatigued to have another scuffle but were doing it out of habit anyway. They looked one step away from coming to blows – like they wanted to but didn't have the energy for a fist-fight.

I would've intervened sooner but another coughing fit overtook me. I covered my mouth and coughed loudly, my throat burning. Having a cold sure increases the misery-factor of everything. When I was done coughing though, I blew my nose again and then stepped in between Roxy and Jetta.

"Hey, you guys, pipe down," I said quietly. "Let's get back to what we're doing here today. We gotta work on our music. And I have something to run by you."

Despite how sick I felt, I was proud because I knew the words came out firmly and did not sound like a plea.

"Yeah, I agree," Pizzazz said. "Shut up you two," she added, in Roxy and Jetta's direction. She looked at me and said lovingly (catch my sarcasm?), "You better not give me that cold."

"What do you have to share with us, Stormer?" Jetta asked. Her voice once again displayed the charm she was quite capable of conveying. She passed my cup of tea over to me.

"I re-did the lyrics to Fast and Furious'," I said. "I came up with some lyrics last night and I really think they'll work. Take a listen."

I then recited the lyrics. I didn't sing them because that's Pizzazz's domain, and my voice was dying from the cold anyway. So I read off the lyrics.

Before I could even finish the final verse, Pizzazz made a face and said, "No way! I'm not singing that."

"Why not?" I asked.

"'Cuz they suck," Pizzazz said.

I took a step towards Pizzazz. I didn't care if she saw my fury. "Saying 'they suck' isn't very constructive, Pizzazz. What about them don't you like?"

My voice sounded like the cracking of a whip. I knew I also conveyed a tone one might use if speaking to a child. Which Pizzazz so often acts like. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Roxy and Jetta exchange a look. I was being more brash than usual.

"I'm not singing them. They don't sound like something I'd sing."

"What do you mean not sound like something you'd sing? 'I'm the best there is….I am who I wanna be….Nobody better than me', doesn't sound like you?" I asked incredulously, quoting the lyrics.

I turned and looked at Roxy and Jetta, hoping they might have liked the lyrics. "What do you two think?"

"What's it matter?" Pizzazz asked. "They don't have to sing 'em. I make the decision on lyrics!"

"But we all get a say in band decisions, Pizzazz," I reminded her.

"I'm not getting in the middle of this," Jetta said, smiling. I interpreted her statement to mean that she liked the words but not enough to put her at odds with our leader.

"I think it's pretty decent," Roxy offered. "You oughtta think about singing em," she said, looking at Pizzazz.

"Really?" Pizzazz asked. I couldn't tell if that 'really?' meant that she would actually consider it.

"Hey, speaking of singing, what's the latest on our appearance on 'Friday Night Rock'?" Jetta asked. "Did we get the contract on that one yet?"

"You're supposedta be keepin' track of that stuff," Roxy muttered.

"That two-bit, late night cable show should be begging us to perform!" Pizzazz added.

I stood there looking at my three bandmates. Jetta had just changed the subject. Maybe she was tired of arguments and didn't want to find herself in the midst of another one. I was too sick and weary to take up the fight again. My nose was running and I had to reach for more tissue. I took a sip of the now tepid tea and I listened to the others talking about the cable show. I blew my sore nose again, wishing I had some lotion or something to put on my nose -- it was red and becoming raw. Maybe we could revisit my lyrics later. I was determined not to give up on this one.

The others usually didn't ridicule my work. Early on, they did occasionally though never as badly as on the day I walked out on them, years ago. Since then, they knew better than to make fun of my music or my opinions. Leaving the Misfits was the second best thing I'd ever done. Re-joining them was the best.

Though I sure didn't feel that way on days like today.

After not too long, we ended up in our office. We do have a Misfits office at Stinger Sound, though Pizzazz and Jetta usually handled the band's business from the Gabor mansion instead where they also have an office. I sat off to the side, blowing my nose and popping more throat lozenges as Pizzazz sat at the computer, Jetta leaning over her shoulder.

"Over there," Jetta pointed. "Click there. Yes, we did get the contract to appear on 'Friday Night Rock'. We signed it and faxed it back to them, so everything should be okey dokey. Can't believe I didn't remember that -- guess I've been a bit flummoxed with everything that's been going on."

"It's next Friday," Pizzazz observed. "They want us at the studio at eight."

She then leaned back in her chair. "What did we ever need Eric for anyway?" she rhetorically asked. "We can run this band better than he ever could."

Suddenly we heard a knock on the door. Without waiting for an invitation, Riot walked in.

"Good evening, ladies," he said, with such false cordiality that I wanted to puke. "I saw the light on in here and thought I would stop in."

Silence greeted Riot. Normally Pizzazz would be rushing to say some ingratiating words to him.

Instead Roxy spoke, breaking the silence, "How's it goin'?" she asked. I wanted to hug her because I loved her tone of voice on the casual question. She conveyed not a scrap of deference -- it was a tone she might have used with the doorman (if she had been in a pleasant mood and deigned to greet him).

"All is well here. Are you ladies hard at work?" As always his voice was liquid smooth.

"We're just checkin' the contract on our next TV appearance," Pizzazz said. I wanted to hug her too. She barely looked at Riot and kept her eyes mostly on the computer screen. Her voice used to sound breathy and ultra-feminine around the Stingers' lead signer but today she just sounded like herself.

"Well then I won't keep you. Good evening," Riot said before he left, closing the door behind him.

"What a f---ing phony," Pizzazz muttered. "The man's been trying to get us thrown in jail but he walks in here and talks to us as if we're old friends. Or colleagues."

"I hate that we gotta work for him!" Roxy said, arms crossed in front of her.

"He hasn't got the danglies to tell us what he really thinks of us," Jetta said. "What a wanker." She then changed into her business tone, "But Pizzazz, we do need to be nice to him. After all, he agreed to stop attacking us. And he owns the record company we're signed to."

"Yeah. You don't need to remind me of that," she replied.

I saw a look cross Pizzazz's eyes and I knew trouble was brewing. Maybe being reminded of how she had to ask Jem for a favor (or "grovel", to use her words) did not sit well with her. Nor did the reminder that she used to be head-over-heels for Riot and he'd never cared for her one bit. Add to that the fact that her father used to own the record company but sold it, thereby cutting one more tie with his daughter. I saw intense aggravation and weariness on Pizzazz's face. Maybe even I don't fully understand everything she goes through. She made an arm movement as if she was going to reach for an object on the desk (to fling it across the room perhaps?) but she awkwardly aborted the gesture.

I wasn't the only one who noticed Pizzazz's mood. "Let's get the hell outta here," Roxy suggested. "We done enough work tonight." Roxy isn't as perceptive as Jetta, but she's not blind either. She knows Pizzazz and her moods well.

"Yeah, that sounds ace!" Jetta enthused. "Let's have a night on the town!"

Pizzazz brightened at that idea. "Yeah!" she exclaimed.

"You up for it, ducky?" Jetta turned towards me. I had just begun another round of coughing.

"Sure," I said. "Anything to get my mind off this cold."

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I had hopes that our evening out might go better than the way it eventually did. Instead, it was one calamity after another, ending in total disaster.

For some reason, we allowed Pizzazz to drive. She blared the radio – as she made insulting remarks about every song that was played -- and didn't keep her eyes on the road. So it was no surprise that, on the way to the restaurant, she rear-ended another car. After a sarcastic shouting match with the other driver, it was all ironed out (with Pizzazz's insurance obviously footing the bill for the damages.)

We reached her favorite restaurant but learned that there would be a two-hour wait – whether or not the famous Misfits and the daughter of Harvey Gabor demanded otherwise. My bandmates were less than polite to the hostess regarding this wait, and we left for another eatery.

The second place we visited also had a long wait. We sat at the bar and ordered appetizers. An ugly guy hit on Roxy but she rebuffed him. Pizzazz looked pissed that he hadn't hit on her, even though she herself wouldn't have wanted him. I'm not a big drinker, but I downed two drinks. Roxy and Jetta got into another argument, this time over who would eat the last quesadilla. They were yelling so loudly at each other that we were asked to leave.

The evening kept going downhill and I kept popping the cold medications that I'd stashed in my purse.

When we finally were seated for dinner at a third restaurant, Pizzazz threw a fit because the restaurant was out of the dish she wanted. She, Jetta, and Roxy made a spectacle of themselves complaining and yelling at the manager. I don't even want to give all the gory details here. For the second time that evening, we were asked to leave a restaurant.

We then headed to a bar (after going through the drive-thru at a fast food restaurant and scarfing their greasy food) to try to salvage the evening. At this point, I warned the others that we had to calm down or trouble would be sure to follow. I reminded them that we couldn't act out like we did before, and being asked to leave the restaurants might've been the tip of the iceberg. They didn't listen to me.

When we reached the bar, we couldn't find a parking spot no matter how many times we drove around the neighborhood. Pizzazz finally shrugged and parked illegally, declaring that she would just pay for the ticket and if we were towed, we could always take a taxi home.

We got even more obnoxious at the bar. Apparently the others didn't find the male clientele to their liking and they made a big stink about that. We behaved much as we used to years ago. We threw things, we yelled, we pushed people out of the way, we played jokes on people. When we wanted to get on the dance floor, we yelled at the DJ and demanded he play what we wanted. Between the alcohol and the cold pills, my mind was fuzzy, but images from that evening still linger in my mind. There was the DJ, cringing as Pizzazz and Jetta knocked over his CDs, demanding to hear a certain song. There were the glasses flying across the room and a lot of angry people including one woman who was stupid enough to almost pick a fight with Roxy. I love my bandmates but they really can be assholes at times.

I drank more – I had already had a few and decided that I wanted to get tipsy, if not completely drunk. Soon my head was spinning. I recalled making another feeble protest to the others, insisting that we had to tone it down but once more no one listened.

So it really came as no surprise when the Morality Officers entered the bar and led us away in handcuffs. I blinked as the cuffs were placed on my hands behind my back. I had a few seconds' worth of that feeling you get when, say, you're in a car wreck and you really can't believe what you're seeing and you wonder if you're in a bad dream. The cold feel of the metal against my wrists helped clear my head a little. I felt dizzy and fear began to seep through my whole body.

"You can't do this!" Pizzazz protested.

"We've been trailing you for hours," I heard one of the officers say. "Your behavior is completely unacceptable. We have it on film."

We were driven to the police station and unceremoniously thrown in jail. The guards grabbed me and put me in a cell with Pizzazz. Roxy and Jetta were placed inside a cell next to ours.

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The Morality Office guards made their way to the jail cells that contained the new female arrivals. One guard was pushing a stand on wheels which contained a computer and other grim testing equipment.

"Alright, ladies, it's time for some blood tests," a guard announced. One of them donned gloves and reached for a needle.

Pizzazz and Stormer exchanged a shocked look. Stormer's stuffy head throbbed and she nearly choked on the rising anxiety. Pizzazz glanced at her bandmate.

"Officer, we just had our blood tested. A week ago, before our concert. Can't we just use those test results?" Pizzazz managed. She didn't sound like herself and despised the weakness in her voice.

"We ask the questions here," came the gruff reply.

Normally a person would not have been re-tested so soon after a previous test that had been passed. But one of the higher-ups was Riot's acquaintance who had promised Riot that he would more closely examine the results from the night of the concert. He had spotted some anomalies and had been monitoring the rock stars for a day now. He had further irregularities to follow up on as well.

The guards unlocked the jail cell and opened it. Stormer briefly considered making a run for it, but three armed guards stood in front of them and she had no idea how to even find the exit to this building. Physically she was weak from the combination of the cold and the alcohol.

Pizzazz looked again at Stormer and saw defeat in her eyes as well. Bereft of an alternative, both women extended their arms and submitted to the test.

During the next few seconds, Pizzazz wondered what would happen next. Maybe with the remainder of the Gabor fortune, she could bribe whoever necessary to keep the lid on this scandal. It might even be possible to get Stormer released, for enough money. She knew her family's stockpile of wealth was not as extreme as it once was but there were a lot of poor people too who might welcome a bribe. 'Maybe I can convince Daddy to sell the mansion. If we can get a buyer, that's gotta be enough to buy whoever we gotta buy to get Stormer free and keep the media away. I don't know how I'm going to convince him though. I'll have to ask for the remainder of my inheritance, every last dollar, now.'

"All clear," the officer said, looking at the computer screen.

Another officer glanced over his shoulder and sounded surprised as he said, "Looks like you're right, Bill. All areas of the test are passed for both of them."

Pizzazz peeked at Stormer using her peripheral vision. The keyboardist was hiding her shock well, she noted admiringly. Pizzazz also concealed her wonderment.

"Great, so can we go now?" Pizzazz asked, sounding bored and feeling much more in control.

"No. You get released when we say so. You still have to account for your uncontrolled behavior on the town."

"And we have to test your two friends," another officer said.

As Roxy and Jetta's cell was next to Pizzazz and Stormer's, the interchange had been overheard by the remaining two members of the band.

"Officer, please," Pizzazz heard Jetta say, with a false laugh and a morsel of desperation. "We just got carried away on the town. It won't happen again."

The saxophonist was ignored. Pizzazz could overhear Roxy and Jetta then cooperating with the guards and being pronounced free of any "drug use or immoral sexuality" once their test results were reviewed.

When certain that the guards were gone, Pizzazz turned to Stormer and whispered in her ear. "So what gives here? You not a lesbian anymore?"

Stormer's reply was whispered back even more quietly, "I've got no idea how I passed that test."

Feeling a modicum of calmness for the first time since the arrest, Pizzazz looked around the cell. The walls were bare, comprised of large concrete slabs of brick. The floor consisted of concrete as well. Two cots were pushed against either wall. One of them had a pillow but the other did not. They both had blankets with varying numbers of holes. The cell also contained a sink and a toilet. Other than that, it was bare.

Pressing up against the bars, Pizzazz could see other cells in this dark wing of the building. Many seemed to be empty, though she could hear and see other people in some of the cells. A long hallway connected them.

The Misfits had been arrested once before, shortly after the Morality Office had been established. Pizzazz surmised that this was the same jail they had spent time in earlier, though back then they had been allowed to make a frantic phone call to Eric Raymond to secure their release within a few hours.

The guards had finished up with Roxy and Jetta and were walking back down the hallway.

"Hey!" Pizzazz called after the retreating officers. "Don't we get to make a phone call? Don't we get to see a lawyer?"

The guards silently kept walking though one of them scoffed at Pizzazz's questions.

Stormer started another coughing fit and reached for some toilet paper to blow her nose on. 'Great,' Pizzazz thought. I'm sure to get her damn cold now!'

Pizzazz then called to Roxy and Jetta. Speaking loudly, they could hear each other relatively well, though they couldn't see each other because their cells were adjacent.

"Can't your dad and his lawyers help us?" Jetta asked. She sounded quite panicked. Pizzazz knew that the British woman did not like enclosed spaces.

"Maybe -- if I could get to a damn phone and call him!" Pizzazz answered. "But I think he's on some business trip in China right now."

"Can they really just leave us here?" Stormer asked, still mystified at having passed the blood test. "Don't they have to like charge us with something?"

No one knew. Jetta wanted to kick herself for not doing more to learn what their rights were under this new order.

"Good thing we all passed the test," Roxy started to say but then Jetta cut her off. They all understood that they had to be very careful about what they said.

After a short while, footsteps and the sounds of doors unlocking were heard. Soon the Misfits were able to see guards escorting a small group of uniformed prisoners down the hallway. Unbeknown to the Misfits, the prisoners were being taken from one work activity to another.

Pizzazz again stood up against the bars, watching for any clues that might prove helpful later on. She looked at the prisoners. She spotted Clash before Clash noticed her.

"Clash," Pizzazz said.

The fan turned towards the Misfits and blinked. "Pizzazz!" she called. But the guards pulled her along, and she didn't have time to do much else other than register their presence and call Pizzazz's name. Soon she was whisked away, out of visual range.

Well, it wasn't a surprise, Pizzazz mused. They knew Clash had been arrested. The sobering reality of being imprisoned for an indeterminate amount of time was a terrifying prospect, Pizzazz began to see.

Pizzazz turned back towards her cell. Stormer, sitting on one of the cots, began another coughing fit. She rummaged around in her pockets. Fortunately the officers had not taken their clothing and allowed them to keep what they wore. Stormer popped her remaining cold medications.

"How the hell are we ever gonna get out of here!" Pizzazz called, to no one in particular.

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"This cell is bogging. And I'm completely knackered," Jetta said, collapsing down onto one of the cell's cots and observing the dirty wall. Their cell was identical to Pizzazz and Stormer's.

"Yeah, we had a wild night," Roxy grinned.

Jetta peered at her bandmate. Roxy, though certainly not thrilled at being imprisoned, was taking it all in stride. It was almost as if Roxy had had so much fun on the town that she was not going to allow this setback to bother her. Jetta herself had the urge to pace but the cell was too small and she was too tired to stand. The band's escapades of the past few hours were catching up with her. She was still stunned at the fact that they had landed in jail. Every muscle in her body cried out for freedom.

"We really should've listened to Stormer," Jetta said, verbalizing her thoughts. "Then maybe it wouldn't have all gone up the left." She spoke quietly enough that the occupants of the adjacent cell would not be able to overhear.

"Huh?" Roxy asked, settling down onto the other cot.

"She told us we needed to get a hold of ourselves." Of course, thought Jetta, Stormer didn't always think as strategically as she needed to when it came to communicating with the rest of the group. She believed that Stormer had made a major miscalculation at the studio earlier when she'd unveiled her new lyrics. Pizzazz had been in a bad mood and was not receptive to any new ideas then. Stormer should have seen that and picked a better time to push for changes to a song. Instead Stormer believed that because she was the band's songbird that she'd be listened to regardless, Jetta saw. Jetta herself would have handled the situation much differently, waiting for a time when Pizzazz was more approachable.

"I wonder how Stormer passed the test," Roxy said.

Jetta put a finger up against her lips. "Shhh! You don't know who might be listening!" she whispered, harshly.

Roxy rolled her eyes at Jetta's response.

'I can add Roxy to the list of people who need to think through her actions better,' Jetta thought, although this was certainly not the first time she had this particular rumination.

Jetta herself had pondered the question though. "Maybe there's a weakness in the test," she whispered. "Maybe there really is a way to round it." This was good information to file away for later.

Jetta glanced over at Roxy. The guitarist had pulled the ratty blanket on her cot over herself and apparently was trying to sleep. Within minutes, the sound of light snoring could be heard.

Jetta envied Roxy this ability to sleep anywhere, anytime. She herself was too agitated, especially by being cooped up in such a small space, to just fall asleep despite her exhaustion.

More time passed. Pizzazz and Stormer's cell was quiet now too, and Jetta wondered whether they might be sleeping as well. She estimated that it was now the early hours of the morning, perhaps around 3 or 4 a.m. Jetta then overheard Stormer coughing and blowing her nose.

More footsteps were heard coming down the outside hallway. These steps didn't sound as official as the others, Jetta noted. They meandered a bit. She listened carefully.

"Here they are," one of the guards said. The two men stopped outside of Roxy and Jetta's cell and shined a blinding flashlight inside.

"Hey, yanks!" Jetta began, irritated. She then quieted down, reminding herself that now was not the time nor place to demand or expect even a modicum of courtesy.

And then one of the guards said something that made her blood chill. "That's the one I was telling you about."

"She's not that great looking," the other guard said. The flashlight remained on Jetta's face, and she had to hold a hand over her eyes and squint.

"I think she's a fine piece of meat. She'd be good to have some fun with tonight," he continued. Jetta could vaguely make out his facial features. He was grinning lecherously at Jetta, practically licking his chops. Both men reeked of marijuana.

"Hey, what is going on here?" Jetta demanded, against her better judgment. This time her voice shook as nightmarish memories resurfaced. "You can't – "

The bars to the cell door were unlocked and opened, and both men entered. One of them roughly grabbed Jetta's arm and pulled her to her feet, as if to drag her along.

"C'mon, sweetheart! It's party time," he said

Suddenly, the guard was shoved to the side. Roxy had sprung to her feet and delivered a heavy blow to him. The guard instinctively let go of Jetta, and Roxy spun him around to sock him in the face.

Jetta's rational side, which would have told her that this was no time for a physical confrontation, was suppressed in favor of her outraged and terrified side. She reached for the second officer, who was advancing towards them, and kicked him in the mid-section.

The Misfits were so distracted they didn't even hear several more guards running down the hallway.

"Joe! Bob! Get away from them," one of the guards ordered. They pulled the two men out of Roxy and Jetta's cell.

"You can't keep sleeping with the female prisoners – you'll get another reprimand," another officer said. "And our whole unit could get in trouble again."

"Yeah, you gotta wait till they're convicted. Then you can do what you want," said a third officer.

As suddenly as the intrusion started, it ended. All the guards left, heading back down the hallway. The wing soon became as silent as it had been just moments ago.

"Hey, you guys. Are you okay?" Stormer whispered from the other cell.

Roxy sat on her cot, nursing an arm which had received a blow during the brawl. Jetta hunched over on the floor, her arms wrapped around herself as she trembled. Neither said a word.

"Are you?" Pizzazz could be heard, sounding both demanding and fearful.

"We're fine Pizzazz," Roxy lied, looking at Jetta. Jetta was covering her face with her hands.

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Roxy's eyes darted around the cell. There had to be something she could use as a weapon, a means of defense. She remembered her high-heeled shoes, tossed under the cot. She reached for them and deftly snapped off the heels. She placed them under her pillow.

She hadn't forgotten Stormer's frightening description of her ordeal in Chicago and what she had needed to do in order to secure her release from the authorities.

Roxy looked at Jetta, sitting in the corner and still shaking slightly. In the past, a weak Jetta would have been cause for gloating. But that was the distant past now.

Roxy had already disposed of the incident. The guards were gone and she and Jetta were safe for the moment. She had a small weapon she could use in the event that they – or others like them – returned. Never once did she believe that the Misfits wouldn't get out of jail, sooner or later. Mentally she left it at that.

But Jetta was having trouble now. It wasn't too much of a surprise for Roxy, when she thought about it. Jetta had freaked on the train ride years ago, when they had come aboard Jem and the Holograms' train and Jetta got her foot caught. She also had panicked on the boat with Pizzazz, years ago in Alaska. 'When it comes down to it, she can't take the heat the way I do,' Roxy mused triumphantly. 'Even though she might be smarter at all that business crap.'

Roxy wondered if she should say something to her.

'Well, why not?' Roxy thought to herself as she slowly arose from her cot. She walked a few steps over to where Jetta sat hunched on the floor. Her head was still buried in her hands, and even in the dark cell Roxy could see her shaking slightly.

Roxy crouched down and extended a hand. She gently placed it on Jetta's shoulder.

But the gesture started Jetta. She screeched, jerked her head up while still keeping her hands in front of her, defensively.

"Hey, Jetta, don't worry about –"

Jetta cut her off. "Just leave me alone, Roxy," she whispered passionately. "Leave me alone!" Her words didn't convey any animosity towards Roxy but they were feral and desperate.

"Okay, okay," Roxy said, heading back towards her cot. 'Suit yourself,' she thought.

Another idea then took root in Roxy's mind. If the guards returned, she wanted to be alerted right away. She attempted to drag her cot and place it immediately in front of the entrance. But the cot was chained to the wall and wouldn't budge.

With a sigh, Roxy reached for the musty pillow and blanket, and the makeshift weapons stashed under the pillow. She stretched out on the bluntly hard floor, guarding the entrance, weapons in hand.

Jetta looked up and saw that Roxy had stationed herself in front of the cell entrance.

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I don't think we were given too long to rest. I could hardly sleep with my nose running so much and my persistent cough. Having a cold is awful enough but I can't even describe how miserable spending the night in jail is, with or without a cold.

My cold symptoms weren't as bad as they'd been but I desperately wished I had some more cold pills.

I had overheard the guards who paid a visit to Roxy and Jetta's cell earlier, and was still shocked and numb from that too. It was all too awful to think about and I tried to block it out, pretend I was somewhere else. The last thing I wanted was a repeat of what had happened when I was in policy custody in Chicago. I wish I could blot that disgusting encounter out of my mind permanently.

But I was baffled at passing the blood test. During that sleepless night I spent time thinking about what could have been different as compared to my last blood test in Chicago. I had taken a lot of medication prior to this test and wondered whether that could have skewed the results somehow. I also had had too much to drink – I'm not a big drinker and I wondered if the alcohol could've done something. Those were the only differences between the previous blood test and the one yesterday. Well, other than the fact that it was cold in Chicago and warm here, but I didn't think that could impact blood test results.

Oh, and at one point during the night Pizzazz barked at me to not use up all the toilet paper on my runny nose. With my nose raw and throat burning, I honestly wanted to give her the finger in reply or toss my wadded up snot rags at her but somehow restrained myself.

Later on, the lights in this wing of the building were turned up. I guessed that morning was here. Armed guards escorted us, along with a bunch of other prisoners (though I didn't see Clash) to some group showers. We were ordered to undress and shower with everyone else. The showers were kind of like those in my high school gym – lots of showerheads in one big room, no curtains.

"I most certainly will not!" Pizzazz exclaimed at one of the guards. "There's no privacy in here. And these showers are filthy!"

But one of the guards advanced on Pizzazz, holding a nightstick. (Thankfully all the guards there were female.) Roxy spotted the raised nightstick, reached for Pizzazz's arm and told her to cooperate.

"No talking!" a different guard commanded, her nightstick brandished and ready.

I glanced at Pizzazz and saw terror in her eyes. She was sobered enough to go along with it. The guards confiscated our clothing. I kept my eyes squarely on myself during the shower. The soap felt grimy. When our time to shower was up, we were each given a towel (the size of a hand towel) and prisoner uniforms.

"When are we going to be charged with something? When will we be able to call a lawyer?" Jetta demanded of one of the guards. I looked at her. She looked so strange in the prisoner uniform, with no make up and her hair flat. We all looked weird. But there was also a look in Jetta's eyes that I don't remember seeing ever before, a look of horror.

"No talking," came the only reply.

We were ushered into a large cafeteria-type room for breakfast. My stomach grumbled even though my tongue didn't feel the least bit of craving for food. This room was even more littered with guards than the showers. But my ears perked up as I heard a delicious sound: conversation. Prisoners ate together in groups and talked. I guessed the "no talking" rule didn't apply in this room for some reason.

The four of us went through the cafeteria line where we weren't able to select what we wanted but rather various items were just placed on our trays. Mostly boxes of cold cereal and dry bagels along with brownish bananas. As we sat down at a table, I wished I had some orange juice or some other type of citrus. My inflamed throat wasn't helped by the dead coffee.

"I can't take another second here!" Pizzazz exclaimed.

"Keep your shirt on," Roxy said. "They can't hold us here forever."

"I'm not so sure," Jetta said.

"My father sure isn't going to notice that I'm missing," Pizzazz added grimly.

"I don't understand it. We all passed the bloomin' test!" Jetta added. "Was our 'uncontrolled' behavior last night really that bad?" Even Jetta's voice sounded different and I knew that what had happened last night with the guards was really having an effect on her. Pretty amazing for someone who could come across as cold and icy.

"Oh, look who's coming our way," Roxy groaned. I looked up and saw Clash, her tray in hand, rapidly approaching us. But once again, I marveled at how nonplussed Roxy sounded, in contrast to Jetta whose face was pale and who only picked at her food.

Without waiting for an invitation, Clash boldly pulled up a chair and sat down with us. I braced myself for Pizzazz's verbal assault on her. I didn't like Clash but I really didn't want to hear her being chewed out either.

"So, what are you guys doing here?" Clash asked, with a false casualness to her voice. I didn't think she had been in jail too long, but she already looked thinner and had circles under her eyes. She apparently had stopped dyeing her hair a while ago – it was brown, and longer than it had been before.

"They didn't like our behavior on the town last night," Pizzazz said. "They're not allowing us to call a lawyer or anything. What gives with that?" I was impressed with Pizzazz; she wasn't cutting Clash down. But of course the reason was evident -- she knew that we needed information from her.

"They'll let you make your call eventually," Clash said, speaking as if a wizened elder. "As long as you pass your blood tests, they let you do it – sooner or later."

"Why the delay?"

Clash shrugged. "Simple. They want to break you, make you guys get antsy. I'm sure they know who you are, Pizzazz. They probably want as much money from you as they can get."

Roxy looked at Clash. "Do the guards here ever rape the prisoners?"

This day was already shaping up to be a nauseous one, and Roxy's blunt question didn't help much. But it needed to be asked. My heart rate shot up again, and I took a sideways glance at Jetta. She looked ill.

Clash looked down at the table. She hadn't touched any of the food on her tray either. "Not before you're charged and convicted. But once you're like convicted….who knows? It happens here I think but no one talks about it much." She looked at Pizzazz. "I don't think they'd do anything to you though."

We were all quiet for a moment or two. I then decided to ask a question before I lost the chance.

"You ever hear of someone getting a false negative on their blood test?" I asked. I didn't know how accurate any of Clash's information was going to be, but it was pretty much all we had. And I ignored the sharp look Pizzazz shot my way when she heard the question.

Clash shrugged. "Sure, there've been rumors since the test came out that false negatives happen. But no one seems to know why."

Clash then leaned forward in her seat, pulling in closer to Pizzazz and speaking conspiratorially, "When you do negotiate with them for your release, will you help me to get out too?"

"Whaddya mean negotiate?" Jetta echoed. "I've never heard of someone negotiating like this. We either have rights or we don't!"

"Look, I'm not a lawyer, I don't know. People with money do tend to get released faster but it's not like they're very consistent with how they handle things here. They don't ever tell us too much. So….will you help me?" she pleaded, again leaning forward in her seat and facing Pizzazz.

I heard Pizzazz's reply and wanted to hit her. "Forget it, Clash. You're not a Misfit."

"But I – "

"Maybe we should, Pizzazz," Roxy began. "It couldn't---"

"No," Pizzazz responded. "You screwed us over too many times, Clash and the last time was the worst. We don't owe you anything after the way you publicly humiliated us."

"How long is your sentence?" I asked Clash, knowing that someday I might face the same sentence myself.

"Five years," she replied, devastation in her voice.

"Five years? For going to a gay bar?" I asked.

She nodded, her face overcome with shame. Her brash look, when she'd first headed for our table, had disappeared. "For 'immoral activity'."

I turned to Pizzazz. "Pizzazz, we have to help her," I pleaded.

"No way. Count me out," Pizzazz said, with utter finality in her voice.

Clash abruptly got up and stomped away from us. Her chair toppled over. I wished I could follow her because I was too disgusted to look at Pizzazz any more.

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That morning, the doorbell rang at Starlight mansion. Krissie answered the door and stood there blinking at the uniformed men.

"May I help you?" she asked. The officers towered over her.

"We're here to see Jem and the Holograms," one officer stated. His voice was cold and businesslike. "Have them come down here at once."

"I…I'll go look for them."

Several members of the band had been eating breakfast together. Craig had arrived that morning and joined them for the morning meal, as he and Aja planned to go to the Gabor mansion afterwards and spend more time working on the hidden room.

Kimber heard the commotion and peeked her head into the room.

"There! That's one of them." One of the officers spotted the shock of red hair quickly.

Moments later, the five members of the band were being handcuffed and led into the Morality Officers' truck. The Starlight Girls watched, mouths agape. Craig stood quietly to the side, knowing better than to provoke a fight now.

"Why are we being arrested?" Jem asked before she was shoved into the truck.

Kimber wondered whether they had gotten hold of some of her new lyrics and deemed them unacceptable. But then the reason for the arrest dawned on her just as the officer stated it.

"Falsifying government tests," came the gruff reply.

"What are you going to do with us?" Aja asked.

"We ask the questions here," the officer answered.

TO BE CONTINUED


	6. Chapter 6

**SURVIVAL OF THE MISFITS**

**Chapter Six**

Author's Notes:

As always, I want to thank my amazing beta testers, Denisia and Severine.

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The rest of the morning passed uneventfully for the Misfits. They were allowed, along with the rest of the prisoners, a walk outside in the sun. No talking was permitted on this trek. Pizzazz could only look at the rows of uniformed prisoners, the armed guards, the massive building and try to stem off the feeling that they were living inside a nightmare.

After the walk, small groups of prisoners were allowed inside the library to pick out a book to read. Pizzazz watched disdainfully as Stormer eagerly probed the shelves for reading material. Jetta also picked out a book. Pizzazz finally sighed and reached for a newspaper. Roxy took a magazine, selecting one with copious pictures.

They were then returned to their small cells. Pizzazz paced, best as she could in the small space, as Stormer immersed herself in her book.

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Meanwhile, Roxy opted for a nap. She could read but it was not an activity she cared for. With nothing else to do, she decided to catch up on some of the previous night's missed sleep. Her back ached from the hours she'd spent on the floor previously and she was glad for her cot this time.

Jetta sat on her own cot with her book, blocking out the sounds of Roxy's snoring.

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"Officer, please," Jem began, as she was shoved into a jail cell. "If we could get in touch with– "

"Quiet!" the officer answered. Another man wielded a nightstick menacingly.

The five band members were pushed into a cell. Although this cell was larger than the ones that housed the Misfits, it contained only two sets of bunk beds. Aja hoped that the fact they lacked one bed perhaps was an indication that they would not be kept in here for long. The floor badly needed to be swept and the sink was cracked.

When their blood samples had been taken and entered into the testing equipment, Jem began again, "So you'll see that we have nothing to hide and have done nothing wrong."

"We're going to study the samples," one guard told them. "We believe you might have falsified some earlier tests."

The officers gathered up the test samples and their equipment, and left the area.

"So much for Riot laying off of us," Shana whispered, instinctively knowing that silence was called for now.

"I knew it. He was lying through his teeth," Aja muttered, arms crossed.

"No, I don't think so!" Jem insisted. Although she too was whispering, her voice conveyed passionate conviction. "I know he was telling the truth. This is the last thing he'd want – me in jail."

"But…here we are," Aja said, unfeigned disgust in her voice.

"This might have happened without having anything to do with Riot at all," Jem said, the truth dawning on her. She lowered her voice even more. "The night of the benefit concert. Kimber took Stormer's test. Surely they have a way to match one blood sample to another."

"I know," Kimber nodded, her gaze downwards at the sticky floor. "I've been thinking about that ever since they handcuffed us. They should be able to tell that I took the test twice. I guess I could be in a lot of trouble. We all might."

"Then it's time to call Synergy!" Raya said. She was aghast at the thought of her parents' reaction to hearing that their daughter was in jail.

Jem nodded. But Aja warningly placed her hand on Jem's arm, which was reaching for her ear.

"Wait a minute. We need to think this through. What can Synergy do to help us here?" Aja asked.

"Maybe she can project the image of one of the higher-ups, telling them to let us go?" Raya suggested.

Aja bore a skeptical look on her face. "But then what? We leave the jail and then what?"

"She's right," Shana said grimly. "Sooner or later, they'll know that we faked them out somehow and that the message to let us go was false. Then we'd be in even more trouble."

Jem felt her stomach sinking. Aja and Shana were right. "And then they'll come right back for us again. Even worse, we'd be putting Synergy at risk of being found out."

"That would be a nightmare," Raya realized, her eyes wide. "They might even decide to ransack the mansion to see how we were able to escape. What would we ever do if we lost Synergy?"

"If they find Synergy I can't even imagine what it might lead to…we could eventually lose custody of the Starlight Girls," Kimber speculated. "And think of the ways the crazies at this Morality Office could use Synergy for their own ends."

"This isn't like Eric Raymond's stupid games before," Aja realized, shaking her head. "This is a lot more serious. Before, we always had a place to run to. If things ever got really bad with Eric and the Misfits, we could've called the authorities. But now…." She let her voice trail off.

"Now it's the authorities themselves who are after us," Jem said. She looked around the small cell and saw her panic mirrored in the faces of her bandmates.

"How big is that hiding room you're working on in the Gabor mansion?" Kimber asked Aja, making a feeble attempt at humor. No one laughed.

"I don't know what to do right now but I think we need to sit tight for the time being and cooperate with them," Jem concluded.

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When Craig saw that the Morality Officers had driven away with their new prisoners, he turned and looked at Mrs. Bailey. She was simultaneously trying to comfort the Starlight Girls and reach Jerrica Benton on the phone. Unable to get in touch with her, she then began trying to get a hold of others. Rio was on tour, road managing for one of Starlight Music's other acts and Anthony was in New York working on his latest film. Craig assisted Mrs. Bailey by phoning Video and Danse, and then trying to reach Raya's family. Video was the only one they had any luck finding, and she offered to head directly over to Starlight House to see how she might be of assistance.

Once he saw that the situation at Starlight House would be under control, Craig told Mrs. Bailey that he was going to "look for some help". He got inside Stormer's car and headed straight for the Gabor mansion. Craig drove so quickly that he ran a red light (and fortunately escaped unharmed and without having been detected by the police) and later narrowly avoided rear-ending another vehicle. Sprinting out of the car towards the main entrance, he tried to tell himself to calm down.

"Mr. Phillips," James, the butler, greeted him at the door. "Please come in. Do you know the whereabouts of Miss Gabor or your sister and their friends?"

"No," Craig said. The sinking feeling that welled up in his gut when he saw Aja and the others being arrested began to grow even larger.

"They have not been back here since yesterday – in fact, it was before you and Miss Leith arrived here yesterday. They left for Misf—I mean, Stinger Sound. None of them came home last night. They do not always tell me of their plans but they almost always sleep here when they're in town."

"Where's Mr. Gabor?" Craig demanded.

"He is on a business trip in Japan."

"Shit!" He took a breath and then said, "Okay. James, call the authorities. I think they might be arresting rock bands. Jem and the Holograms were just arrested. See if you can find out if the Misfits were arrested too."

"I will do so right away."

"Good." Craig then headed for the main staircase. "I'm going to see if I can find something that might help us," he offered by way of explanation.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Craig retraced the steps back to Stormer's room. He flung open the door and, his eyes scanning the room, tried to locate an address book or some sort of personal organizer. He opened each drawer and looked inside the two purses he found but came across no address book.

She's never been the most organized person,' Craig said to himself. But which of her bandmates might be?'

Craig guessed that Jetta's room was the one that contained two saxophones and a poster of Buckingham Palace. He searched through her bureau's drawers until he found a small address book. Flipping through the pages with their tidy handwriting, he reached the letter "T".

Under the "T"s, there existed a cryptic entry for a "T.R." which included an address and a phone number. Craig remembered hearing of Techrat during his last discussion with the Misfits. Taking the address book in hand, he raced back down the stairs.

"Did you find anything out?" he asked when he saw James.

James held the receiver to his ear. "I am on hold right now. The person I spoke with earlier said that she thought Miss Gabor might have been arrested yesterday but she is checking with her superiors to find out what she can tell me."

There wasn't any doubt in Craig's mind where his sister was. Leaving his contact information with James, Craig dashed out to the car. He hoped to be able to find the elusive Techrat. Brushing aside fears of his sister being forced to take another blood test – and fears that he was probably too late -- , he drove as fast as possible.

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When the prisoners were summoned for lunch, Roxy elected to continue napping. Jetta was surprised that the guards did not compel her bandmate to join the others in the cafeteria; the guitarist was permitted to continue her slumber. She was also surprised that Roxy was tired enough to actually skip lunch, but she knew her bandmate had not gotten a sound night's sleep on the floor of the cell. And although Roxy was not the most discriminating eater, the food here was nothing to get excited about either. So Jetta joined Pizzazz, Stormer, and the other prisoners in their wing as they silently lined up and were marched towards the cafeteria.

Lunch was not as casual an affair as breakfast, apparently. Signs demanding "NO TALKING" were posted, and the prisoners ate without conversation. The food was no more appetizing than at breakfast, though Jetta still had no desire to eat, given the previous night's ordeal. She sat at the table with Pizzazz and Stormer, the three friends exchanging glum looks and picking at their cold food. Jetta noticed that Stormer didn't seem ill anymore; the only sign of her cold from yesterday was a few sniffles.

Clash studiously avoided the three Misfits.

There were two different shifts for meals at the large prison which had recently been expanded with a new wing and hundreds more cells. Jem and the Holograms were on a different shift than the Misfits and therefore the two bands did not cross paths during this mealtime.

Jetta, along with the other prisoners, was escorted back to her cell. Roxy was still sound asleep on her cot. Jetta picked up her book and tried to immerse herself in it. Despite the rows and rows of cells occupied by prisoners, the wing was quiet. Jetta felt a vague ringing in her ears caused by the unnatural silence. Roxy's intermittent snoring was the only sound in the vicinity.

The hours slumped by. Jetta nearly finished the book she was reading. Bored out of her mind, she almost considered doing some sit-ups or push-ups on the cell floor. Anything to take her mind off of last night's ordeal with the guards and to pass the time. She wondered if, later in the afternoon, they would be allowed outdoors for another breath of fresh air, another chance to get some exercise and walk around. After more time passed, Jetta would have traded her favorite saxophone for a chance to do just that.

Finally she heard Roxy begin to stir. Waking up, Roxy turned over and rubbed an eye.

"Oww!" Roxy suddenly screeched as her body jerked suddenly, eliminating the silence.

"What are you on about?" Jetta queried.

"My neck!" Roxy exclaimed. She had frozen in her position, with her neck turned awkwardly to one side. Gritting her teeth, she held one hand up to her neck as if to stop the pain. "I pulled a muscle or something. It hurts like hell."

"I think you slept wrong during your nap. You were in a strange position." Jetta silently added that sleeping on the floor of the cell last night could not have helped either.

Roxy let out a string of profanities. She remained nearly frozen in position. Stormer heard the commotion and asked if there was anything she could do. Her voice could barely be heard through the barrier that separated their cells.

"Yeah, send me over all the painkillers you got," Roxy grumpily demanded, knowing full well that Stormer had none.

Jetta winced at seeing Roxy in so much pain. The "tough girl" didn't often like to show or express hurt, but in this case it was plainly obvious. She was still practically frozen in position, the pulled muscles in her throbbing neck causing her untold amounts of pain.

"Maybe I could call the guards," Jetta offered unthinkingly. "We can ask them for something."

"After last night?" Roxy gawked. "Forget it – we're not dealin' with those stupid guards any more than we need to." A look of resolve seemed to come over her face. "Forget it. I'll just deal with it."

"Damn bloody Morality Office!" Jetta burst, angrily pacing the cell. "Keeping us locked in here for no bleedin' reason! When things get back to normal, we're going to hire every bloody lawyer in the world and sue their feckin' arses for all the money we can get!"

The cell was so small that it made pacing difficult. Jetta could only take a couple of steps in one direction before needing to turn around. She began to feel dizzy given the cramped space. She looked around and was walled in, in each direction. The air inside the building was stale and her cheeks began to flush as the panic started to climb.

"Keep your shirt on, Jetta," Roxy said, looking over at her bandmate. Despite the awkward angle she had to hold her neck at, she could see Jetta's distress. "We'll get outta here sooner or later."

"How! Pizzazz's father is abroad – not that he'd even notice that we were gone. Eric's been gone for months. Haven't got a baldy on how we'll ever get outta here. There's no one around to notice or care!"

"I'm sure Stormer's brother has noticed and he's probably working with Jem and the Wimp-o-grams right now to bail us out," Roxy muttered, sounding unenthused at the prospect of being rescued by their rival band once more. "Maybe they'll use whatever magic they pulled at the concert. So sit down and cool your jets. We're gonna be fine," Roxy commanded with utmost confidence in her statements.

She observed that Jetta took her advice and returned to her cot.

"Now take a few breaths," Roxy ordered, seeing the pinkness on Jetta's cheeks. "Just do it. Breathe."

"Okay, Mum!" Jetta responded sarcastically. She was unsure, though, why she had jokingly referred to Roxy as "Mum". Jetta's own mother had rarely noticed when her only daughter was experiencing anguish, be it mental or physical. Shaking those thoughts aside, Jetta forced herself to quietly take some breaths. She closed her eyes.

A few minutes passed and Jetta felt the panic begin to recede. Silence returned to the cell. She looked over at Roxy.

"So, how's your neck?"

"Crappy." Roxy was still maintaining her position and clutching her neck. "Shouldn't have slept on the damn floor of the cell last night."

Jetta felt the fear begin to well up once more in thinking about the encounter with the guards that had caused Roxy to station herself at the cell's entrance last night. When she thought about it, and against her better judgment, she felt touched by Roxy's gesture. But she shivered at the thought of spending another night in jail.

"You cold?" Roxy asked.

"No. Just thinking about spending another night in this minging place!"

Roxy knew that the lack of cleanliness of the jail was obviously not the reason Jetta loathed the idea of spending another night here. Slowly, achingly, Roxy shifted position so she could lift up her pillow.

"Look here," she whispered, gesturing at the objects underneath her pillow.

"What do you have there?" Jetta responded quietly, getting up to take a closer look.

"Weapons. In case we need 'em. Quick little stab to the eye or the groin. They don't look like much but it's all in how you use 'em."

Jetta looked at the broken-off heels. She'd spent time on the streets too and knew how to defend herself. She also knew full well that Roxy's actions – guarding the cell entrance and creating make-shift weapons – were done as much to protect Roxy herself as to protect Jetta. But she still appreciated it.

"Careful, luv," Jetta began, noticing Roxy's new position might be jostling her pained neck. "You don't want to hurt yourself any more."

"Don't think this damn pain can get any worse no matter what I do," she grimaced.

An idea sprung into Jetta's mind. Ever since the Gabor mansion had closed its spa, Stormer had willingly offered massages to her bandmates. Jetta had taken advantage of them more than once and they seemed to work wonders at getting knots out. Stormer had very strong hands.

"'ere," Jetta said, kneeling on the hard floor in front of Roxy. "Maybe I can do something to help."

"Like what?" Roxy asked. It was now her turn to feel a hint of panic.

"Maybe I can rub that kink out of your neck. Stormer's massaged me before. It feels nice. It can help."

"No," Roxy said, shrinking back even though the movement caused more jolts of pain to assault her neck.

"Why not?"

"'Cuz I said 'no'! Now shove off."

Jetta heard Roxy's words and had an understanding of the fear from which they sprang. She did not want to respond to Roxy's fire with more fire of her own. She instead began, soothingly, "Oh come on now. You can handle it. It will help you."

Roxy had to be very particular about who touched her, when, and how. There had been times when she'd participated in a hug from a bandmate or even a smaller gesture, such as a hand on a shoulder from Stormer. That she could handle. Roxy also, as Jetta knew, had had numerous lovers. But in those situations, Roxy took the lead and did not allow her own body to be explored that much. Prolonged, intimate touch was not something the Misfit looked forward to. Growing up with an absence of physical affection, Roxy still had a hard time seeing touch as normal.

"I dunno how much it's gonna help," Roxy said weakly, though she felt her resolve begin to break as another attack of painful knives overtook her shoulder and neck.

"Roxy, you know I won't hurt you. Don't think of it as being touched," Jetta said, unsure of why she was being so persistent. "Pretend I'm a doctor performing some work on you – like a dentist putting in a filling or something."

It was a strange analogy, but Roxy bought it. 'Well, what does it matter?' she asked herself. Jetta's already seen me vulnerable. I can barely move now. Heck, she saw it back at the mansion that day we talked about our shitty childhoods. And I've seen her freakin' out in here too so we're even,' she concluded, wondering if Stormer would be proud of her.

"Okay," Roxy breathed.

Jetta put her hands on Roxy's shoulder, realizing then that she really had no idea how to give a rub-down. Getting a massage and giving one were different things entirely. She worked her hands against the skin of her old foe, improvising and hoping for the best.

"Is it helping?" Jetta asked after a few minutes.

"I dunno, I think so." Roxy was still tense, both at being touched as well as by the sharp pain still emanating from her neck and shoulders. She gritted her teeth as Jetta continued.

Despite her love for food, Roxy was thin and Jetta could easily feel the bones that jutted up against the skin. Roxy's shoulders had hardened muscles.

"Things are startin' to get better," Roxy said after a while longer.

"Just let me know when you want me to stop," Jetta said, ignoring the discomfort in her knees as she knelt on the cell's floor.

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The guards came by again, some time after lunch. They were opening up cell doors and escorting prisoners somewhere.

"What's going on?" I asked as I rushed up towards the cell's bars, though I didn't know who my question was addressed to. "Where are we going?"

"Basketball game," of the guards answered.

Apparently the game was optional. But I sure relished another chance to get out of the cell – the afternoon had been creeping by intolerably slowly and I was nearly finished reading the book I'd selected. Apparently my bandmates agreed. None of us enjoyed sports but we allowed the guards to march us, with the others, to a gym.

Talking was not allowed during our trek to the gym, but once inside we could do so. I was surprised that both Pizzazz and Jetta joined one of the two ad-hoc teams that were being formed. Maybe they just wanted the chance to move around. We don't like exercise but it isn't fun being cooped up inside a cell all day either. I can't describe it, but it's like your whole body cries out for the chance to move.

I didn't watch the game very closely but I noticed that Clash was on one of the teams too. Despite my need for exercise, I didn't play myself. Although my cold was a lot better that day, I still felt weak and slightly congested.

Roxy sat next to me on the bleachers. She was grimacing and holding her head in a very strange angle as she explained to me that she'd pulled a muscle "or somethin' – I slept weird". I wanted to offer to help her by rubbing her neck but I knew she didn't like that kind of touch so I kept my offer to myself. Roxy seemed uncharacteristically quiet and maybe even reflective that afternoon.

I wished that the game was outdoors so I could get some fresh air, but I tried to just enjoy the glimpses of blue sky available from the few windows inside the gym. As much as I hated our current predicament, it was kinda nice to be sitting at Roxy's side and just zoning out as I half-heartedly watched the game.

At some point Clash decided to take a break or something. She walked over to the bleachers and sat down on my other side.

"So what've you Misfits been up to lately?" she asked. She was faintly out of breath and had begun to sweat a bit too. "I heard you played some big benefit concert with Jem and the Holograms and the Stingers."

After our encounter at breakfast, I was surprised to hear Clash addressing us once more like we were old friends. But given recent events, I guess nothing could surprise me too much.

"Yeah, we did," I said. "It went well and we got lots of good publicity." I didn't want to get into everything that had happened on that fateful night. The less Clash knew about things, the better.

"What have you been up to?" I asked her, wanting to turn the conversation around to her.

"Not much." She then dropped her voice and said quietly, with hints of excitement and pride, "I got a girlfriend though."

"You do?" I asked. I was intrigued. "What's her name?"

"Gwen. She's a graphic artist."

"Is she here?" I asked.

"No. We met before I went to jail – we've been together three months."

"If you already got a girlfriend, what were you doin' at a dyke bar when you got arrested?" Roxy asked, joining the conversation.

Clash made a face. "Gwen and I went there to dance. They played cool music. It's nice to just go somewhere where you can hold hands and be a couple and stuff. She was in the bathroom when the cops came. I think she got away – that bathroom had a big window. I don't really know though – where she is or what she's doing, or when I'll see her again. My first phone call since I got here was to Pizzazz, and I had to beg and plead for them to let me make a second call."

Clash spoke with such a wistfulness in her voice that I was nearly overcome with sympathy for this young woman who I'd never really liked that much. Not to mention shame at our (or _Pizzazz's_) utter failure to help.

"Who was your second call to? Why didn't you call Gwen?" I asked.

"I didn't wanna get her in trouble. So I called Video instead. But she didn't wanna help me."

There was awkward silence for a few moments. I watched Roxy absentmindedly rub at her neck again. Then I turned towards Clash and asked another question.

"What would you do if you were out of jail?" I asked.

"Find Gwen and get the hell outta here. We talked about leaving the country. We shouldda done it when we had the chance."

"What country would you go to?"

"We were thinkin' maybe Mexico. Their economy is worse but they ain't targeting gay people like they are here. We might try to make it to Canada but I heard the border there is really tight and they don't want to let gay people in. Though I heard if you can get in, it's not so bad for queers there. They don't like us but they're not throwing us in jail there either. Canada's economy is pretty bad too though – at least as bad as it is here, if not worse."

One of the basketball players whistled and made a gesture at Clash. She sprang to her feet. "Looks like I'm needed. See ya later!" she said, before scampering back onto the court.

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Officer Houghton was in charge of operations for the Los Angeles branch of the Morality Office. Arriving at the women's prison that afternoon along with another officer, he met with the warden to review recent test results.

It was a mystery how the rock bands had deceived the office on the night of the benefit concert. Somehow they had obtained two samples from Kimber Benton and none from Mary Phillips. He had no idea how that had occurred. The blood samples taken this morning from Benton matched both of the samples from the night of the concert. Phillips' sample from yesterday did not match any of them. But all of the specimens passed the tests.

Houghton silently reviewed his options at this point. He could dig further and open an investigation into what had occurred the night of the concert. There was enough evidence that something was amiss to continue to hold both bands in prison. Besides, he always had the old standby that some of their lyrics were unacceptable, plus the fact that various members of both groups hailed from uncertain parentage. Legally he was on solid ground, he knew, if he wanted to continue to keep them in custody.

He continued to ponder his next step. Both bands had to be wealthy, especially the one headed by that Gabor heiress. Dollar signs began to dance in Houghton's mind. Perhaps a few bribes might be enough to persuade him to overlook any odd redundancies in test results. He would have to be careful if he wanted to pursue that course of action though; the Morality Office did not take well to their leaders getting caught receiving bribes. He looked through his computer files, attempting to determine which of his underlings knew what at this point.

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Craig Phillips stood outside of the giant lair. It had taken him much longer than he wanted to locate the foreboding place, including more than one reluctant stop to ask for directions. Craig was not familiar with this part of the city and Techrat had not made his hideout easy to reach either.

Walking through the deserted parking lot and stepping over garbage blowing in the gentle wind, Craig made his way towards the structure. This had to be it. Once again, the fact that his sister had led a life that he knew so little about hit him. Craig banged loudly on the door.

His knock was ignored. He repeated it. After receiving only more silence, Craig continued to bang on the door but to no avail.

Pushing aside doubts as to whether he had located the right place, Craig yelled, "I know you're in there, Techrat. I'm Craig Phillips -- Stormer's brother. I need your help."

After more pauses, the crackling sound of static was heard. Craig recognized noises that sounded like an intercom.

"Come in, Craig," said the creepiest voice he had ever heard.

Mustering up his courage, Craig walked through the darkened entrance way to see what awaited him.

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After an allotted one hour for their basketball game, the prisoners were returned to their cells. Once again, the Misfits' paths did not cross Jem and the Holograms'. The other band had been escorted outside for an optional baseball game instead.

Pizzazz and Stormer entered their cell. The bars were closed with a harsh sound of finality.

Pizzazz slumped down onto her cot. Although dinnertime had not yet arrived, it looked likely that they would have to spend another night in prison. Her eyes felt sore when she looked at the bars and the confining walls. Her stomach clenched at the thought of another unappetizing meal and another group shower the following morning. Words escaped her and she was almost too disgusted and upset to speak about their predicament.

"I never imagined you'd ever play basketball," Stormer offered, breaking the silence. She sat down cross-legged on her cot. Her voice sounded tentative and sorrowful.

Pizzazz shrugged. "It felt good to move around. And get out of this hole."

"I talked to Clash for a bit."

Pizzazz didn't respond nor give any indication that she'd heard Stormer. So Stormer continued, "I think you gotta reconsider, Pizzazz. We have to help her get out of here."

"In case you haven't noticed," Pizzazz began dismissively, "we can't get our own asses outta here, let alone anyone else's!"

"But we will," Stormer insisted. "Sooner or later they're gonna let us make a phone call and you can get a hold of one of your dad's lawyers. I'm sure they can either help us or round up some bribe money to get us free."

Pizzazz once again responded with silence. She lay on her back, staring at the decrepit ceiling and wishing that she was anywhere but here.

"Well?" Stormer insisted.

"Well what?" Pizzazz asked, not shielding Stormer from any of the irritation she felt.

"Well, will you help Clash when the time comes?" Stormer asked.

Pizzazz didn't like the exasperation she heard in her bandmate's voice. "Stormer, just drop it, okay?" she responded, her voice cracking like a whip. "I can't stand Clash! What, did she offer you sexual favors in exchange for you pestering me?"

Pizzazz's ears perked up. She suddenly detected a change inside Stormer.

"You are the most selfish, mean-spirited witch I've ever met in my lifetime," Stormer stated. Her voice was both steady and outraged.

Pizzazz sat up, swinging her legs around to face Stormer. Momentarily shocked, she didn't know how to respond.

But without missing a beat, Stormer continued, listing a litany of accumulated hurts. "I practically had to beg you to talk to Jem about doing something that would save my life! Despite the dozens and dozens of hits I've written for the band, you wouldn't sing the lyrics I wrote even though they mean a lot to me. You called me an idiot. You didn't say a word that day we were watching TV and the comedians were bashing gay people. And you didn't listen to me yesterday when I kept telling you that we had to tone it down or get arrested. Shit, you even barked at me not to use all the toilet paper when I was in agony from this cold and blowing my nose! Do I mean anything to you or do you just think you can treat all your friends like shit? Do you give a damn about anyone other than yourself?"

Stormer released the pent-up anger without much forethought. She had to admit, though, that as scary as it was it also felt good. As she spoke, she watched Pizzazz's face change colors. She knew the singer was gearing up for another tantrum.

"Go ahead," Stormer said calmly. "Have another tantrum. Look for something to throw, though I don't think there's much in here. Scream and yell – see where it gets you."

Pizzazz's hands trembled. Her body was shaking and her face had turned ashen. Indeed her eyes did dart around the cell seeking an object to hurl. But there was nothing for her to throw. Everything except for the blankets, pillows, and two human beings were secured to the hard ground. She wanted to slap Stormer but was too shocked and outraged.

So Pizzazz swallowed the scream inside her throat. She took a deep breath and then hissed, "How dare you. I have done things for you that I haven't done for anyone else. I had to go grovel in front of Jem! I had to beg my father to get us the helicopter to get out of Chicago. When you left the band – and you did that, you left me! -- I had to humiliate myself in front of Jem and the Holograms to ask for you back. What in the hell else do you want me to do!"

Although absorbed in their conflict, Pizzazz and Stormer spun around when they heard the sound of chuckling. A woman stood outside their cell, observing them and laughing smugly at the duo. The two bandmates stared at the intruder.

"Well, well, well Phyllis. I guess I should have expected no less from you," the woman said, a smirk in her voice.

Stormer deduced her identity first. The haughty patrician features and piercing green eyes were dead giveaways. The middle aged woman stood with her arms crossed. She wore a Morality Office uniform, and her hair was swept upwards into a severe bun.

"You haven't changed," she continued, calmly and flatly. "Getting away from you and your father was the smartest thing I've ever done."

Pizzazz's eyes leapt from her face as she realized who stood outside of the cell. She had not seen the woman's face nor heard her voice during the past two decades of pain and resentment.

"M-mom?" Pizzazz managed, her voice trembling.

"I heard that you'd been arrested again," she responded. Her voice continued in an even and detached tone. "I had to see for myself – in person -- what I had spawned." Her eyes narrowed and she nearly spat. "Pathetic."

Stormer snuck a glance at Pizzazz. Her face had been drained of color. Stormer saw insane terror and indescribable shame in Pizzazz's eyes. Her hands were shaking. Stormer took a step towards her and gingerly placed a hand on the singer's arm.

Pizzazz's mind shut off. She had no idea what to say or do. Oblivious to Stormer, she shrank slightly from the door as if she wanted to cower in the corner. Pizzazz's mother continued to gaze at her with a disgusted stare.

"Well, I saw what I came to see. And I realize that I made the right choice twenty years ago."

With that, Pizzazz's mother turned and walked away.

Pizzazz's legs buckled. As she crumpled to the ground, Stormer remained at her side.

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I sat there next to Pizzazz on the cold, hard floor. I didn't know how much of the last few minutes Roxy and Jetta had overheard but I wondered what they must be thinking.

But mostly I wondered what to do with Pizzazz. She was folded into a ball and still shaking. Watching her was like watching a volcano that was about to erupt.

And then I couldn't restrain a small gasp when I heard a sound coming from her. My ears strained to detect whether my first guess was correct or not. It was. Pizzazz was sobbing. She was trying to hold it in, but she was crying. Listening to it was scary and shocking.

I knew she had a tendency to push people away during times like this, but I decided to be brave and stay firm with her. I wrapped as much of my arms around her as I could manage. Very slowly and very gently, I rearranged her limbs so that I was embracing her. Her head landed on my shoulder, and my drab prison uniform soon became damp with muffled tears.

"It's okay," I whispered. "Let it out."

As Pizzazz did my bidding and allowed herself to cry, I replayed the words she'd said to me before her mother had arrived. She had demonstrated that she cared about me in all the ways that she'd mentioned. She had done a lot and maybe I'd overlooked it. But other actions of hers towards me were not the actions of a friend and I still stood by all the complaints against her that I'd verbalized. It had felt almost exhilarating to let them out.

Things with the Misfits will never be perfect, of that I am certain. We'll never be full of loving affection and open, earnest dialog about our friendships. But maybe – and I knew I'd had this realization before but I guess I needed to arrive at it again – things weren't so bad the way they were either. Maybe I can accept Pizzazz (and the others) the way they are, while still speaking up when they cross a line.

I had a lot of time to think as I hugged the sobbing Pizzazz. The actions of Pizzazz's mother baffled me a bit. Had she come all that way to get a glimpse of her daughter in person and to then just verbally humiliate her? She had seemed to gain almost a sadistic pleasure from it. I was also surprised that she had joined the Morality Office. I thought I may have glimpsed rank insignia on her uniform that indicated a high status.

Pizzazz and I sat together on that floor for a long time, Pizzazz still trembling. I stroked her hair periodically, trying to comfort her. When her tears seemed to be subsiding, I made a move as if to get up because I wanted to get her some tissue (and because one of my legs had fallen asleep). But Pizzazz grasped my arm fiercely.

I whispered softly, "I'm not going to leave you."

Pizzazz made a gesture that looked like a nod. She lifted her head up.

"Here," I said, getting to my feet. I ran some water from the sink onto a wadded up bunch of toiler paper. The water was lukewarm -- not the refreshing coolness that would have been nice.

Pizzazz dabbed at her reddened face. She slumped down onto a cot (mine, actually, not hers) and I sat next to her. She then tossed the paper towards the small wastebasket and sighed, leaning her back against the wall.

"You wanna talk about it?" I whispered. I was really just winging it here – I didn't know what to say or do. She might lash out at me at any second or begin with another tantrum. Well, I knew one thing. I was going to stay by her side at all costs.

"No," she responded. She set her jaw.

"Fair enough," I replied. So we sat in silence, next to each other on the cot. Our thighs touched each other's and she rested some of her weight against my side. Her breathing seemed labored.

Not long afterwards, the guards rounded up prisoners to be escorted to dinner. I asked Pizzazz if she was hungry and she shook her head. Frankly, I wasn't really hungry either and I had promised to remain with her, so I declined to join the dinner group as well.

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Roxy and Jetta, along with dozens of other prisoners, made their way to the cafeteria for dinner. Roxy rubbed the aching muscles around her neck and shoulders. What Jetta had done – as uncomfortable psychologically as it had been – had helped. Her pulled muscles still were sore though.

"What do you think happened in there?" Jetta whispered to Roxy, cocking her head in the direction of Stormer and Pizzazz's cell.

"Silence!" bellowed one of the guards. His intimidating nightstick was held high.

Jetta began to turn her head to glare at the guard, but thought better of it and halted the gesture. She didn't need another reminder of who was in charge here. She and Roxy, along with the others from their wing, were led to the cafeteria and instructed to remain silent.

It was like a bizarre game, Jetta thought to herself as she walked through the crowded but eerily noiseless cafeteria. A game with rules that constantly changed at the whims of the game's masters – when they could talk, when they couldn't, whether they got to go to the gym for a game or had to remain in their cells. No matter what was happening though, she and the other prisoners had no control and no say in the events.

Jetta and Roxy moved through the cafeteria line. Several unappetizing dishes were placed on their trays: waxy beans, an undercooked cut of pink chicken, limp carrots, and some gelatinous, glazed peaches that seemed to quiver. The two bandmates proceeded to sit next to each other at a table. Hungry Jetta forced herself to bring the food to her mouth and eat. She was a pickier eater than Roxy who downed the unappealing food with her usual gusto.

As she silently ate, Jetta recalled that she and Roxy had overheard some fascinating interactions originating from their bandmates' cell earlier. First it had sounded as if Pizzazz and Stormer had been having a verbal scuffle – easily one of the most contentious in memory between those two. That in and of itself would have been reason to pause but then there had been that strange interaction with the female guard. Her voice had been quieter and Roxy and Jetta could not make out everything she had said. But they did overhear a few tantalizing tidbits. Then the woman had left, and Pizzazz and Stormer had gone quiet.

Jetta was just musing that it had been a very strange sequence of events indeed when she looked up and saw something that made her gasp. Roxy whirled her head, first at Jetta and then in the direction of her gaze.

Jem and the Holograms were standing in the cafeteria line. The morose band wore prisoner uniforms and were obediently holding trays and waiting for their dinner, their bright hair colors standing out in contrast to their uniforms and the dingy surroundings. So Jem and the Holograms had been arrested too! But why, Jetta wondered. Surely they had not spent the previous evening on a partying rampage as the Misfits had. Jetta guessed that the other band's arrest could not bode well for the fate of her own band.

Shana nudged Jem and gestured in the direction of Roxy and Jetta. The two Misfits and the other band exchanged grim looks.

Following their silent dinners, the band members were led back to their prison cells.

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"It looks like we're gonna be spending the night in here," Shana said glumly after their dinner. She shivered in their chilly cell.

Jem took a breath. "I don't know what else to do at this point," she said, and then dropped her voice to a whisper. "I still believe we can't risk contacting Synergy." For all the band knew, they might be under video surveillance.

"I agree," Aja said firmly.

"We have only four beds," Raya observed, facing the two sets of bunk beds.

"I'll share with someone," Kimber offered. The beds were quite narrow; accommodating two adults, even slender ones, would be a challenge.

Raya decided to pair up with her.

"So it looks like Roxy and Jetta are here too," Jem said. She and the Holograms had glimpsed the two Misfits during dinner but had been unable to speak with them.

"I wonder if they just did a blanket arrest of all rock bands today," Aja mused gloomily. "Though I bet the Stingers aren't in here."

"I wonder where Stormer and Pizzazz are," Kimber said, worried. "They weren't in the cafeteria."

"Well, if they re-tested them, then Stormer's probably in big trouble," Shana said, her arms crossed. She had to admit that the thought of Pizzazz behind bars didn't trouble her too much. She herself was positively itching to get out of jail. She couldn't afford to fall even a few days behind her wedding plans. Yet Shana possessed patience in abundance and understood the wisdom of not contacting Synergy.

"I'm so worried about her," Kimber said.

"I'm worried about us," Jem said. "Rio's on tour, Anthony's in New York, we're not even allowed to make a phone call – I don't know what to do."

"I think all we can do now is what you said earlier," Aja responded. "Lay low for now and cooperate. I'm sure our people will do whatever they can to get us out." She deeply missed Craig and said a small prayer, hoping that he would be able to pull some sort of magic to free them.

TO BE CONTINUED

Please leave a review. I appreciate your comments and feedback.


	7. Chapter 7

**SURVIVAL OF THE MISFITS**

**Chapter Seven**

Author's Notes:

As always, I want to thank my amazing beta testers, Denisia and Severine.

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Craig drove back to Starlight House, leaving Techrat hard at work. The peculiar man had uncovered one piece of information already, something that Craig was determined to find a way to use. Apparently Pizzazz's mother, Gail Nye, was one of the higher-ups in the regional Morality Office and had arrived at the jail earlier today. Her purpose for the trip was not clear. Techrat had uncovered that higher-ranking Officers rarely visited prisons. Craig knew nothing about Nye – his sister had never mentioned her – but he knew that she could be useful.

Craig now wanted to regroup with Video and the others at Starlight House to see what they had learned and calibrate with them on a plan of action. He briefly considered paying an unexpected visit to Riot but decided such a mission would be pointless, if not suicidal.

He shook his head. A few short years ago he would not have hesitated to march into Riot's Stinger Sound office and tie a lamp neck around Riot's if need be, to get him to cooperate. But Craig took a breath and forced himself to think rationally. In this environment, doing so would only get him locked in a prison cell which wouldn't do Aja or his sister any good.

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Gail Nye entered Officer Houghton's office at the prison. Long divorced from Harvey Gabor, Gail had reverted to her maiden name and had never looked back nor remarried. After a couple of decades living the free-spirited and flighty life she had wanted – financed mostly by Harvey's divorce settlement – she grabbed hold of the Morality Office soon after it had formed and never let go.

As an official in the Morality Office, Gail clung to the discipline and structure required. At last she had a purpose and direction. At last she had some clear and simple answers. It all made sense to her now.

"So it looks like that Kimber Benton somehow took the test twice on the night of the concert," Gail observed, after reviewing Houghton's reports. She did not look at Houghton as she continued to page through the paper report and glance periodically at the computer screen.

"Yes, Officer Nye," Houghton nodded. He was not happy that she was here. He silently berated himself for not acting faster as his chance for receiving any bribe money was now dwindling. Officer Nye had a reputation for clinging to the letter of the law and strictly interpreting every policy.

"I think we should detain both bands indefinitely," Nye decided. The decision, of course, was not solely hers to make but she knew she had enough clout at the regional office to convince her superiors.

"Do we have enough evidence?"

"These reports on the bands are filled with strikes against them!" Gail said. "Let's just start with Jem and the Holograms. One of the band members is illegitimate. They have sung songs with irresponsible lyrics, including a song that glorified that obscene Mardi Gras spectacle – I'm so glad we no longer allow that celebration of perversion and sloth to take place," she added. Gail then continued, "Some of their videos and lyrics have also advocated fornication, such as that disgusting 'Come On In the Water's Fine' video or the song 'Who Is He Kissing'. Horrible messages, especially for a band that lives with foster girls! What are they teaching them?" She paused to take a breath and then added, her voice dropping in volume although the two were alone, "Besides, the racial integration of that band is disturbing. Like belongs with like. Those White women shouldn't spend all their time with Blacks, Asians, and Hispanics."

Houghton nodded. The Morality Office did not public ally advocate racial separation but most of their leaders agreed with Nye's position.

"What about the other band?" he asked.

"What about them?" Nye snorted. "Their cavorting on the town yesterday night was horrible behavior for four unmarried women. Besides, one of their members is also illegitimate and one of them is not an American citizen, nor has she shown any attempts to become one. And most of the lyrics sung by their singer are licentious and shameless, such as that 'I Like Your Style' song." Gail was glad that she had dumped the Gabor name; others would have no easy way of knowing that the "Pizzazz" creature was her daughter. Regardless of who she was though, Phyllis and her bandmates deserved to be locked up, in Nye's estimation.

"So we'll just plan to keep them here for a while?" Houghton asked.

"Yes. At least a month or two. We must teach them a lesson and maybe even convince them to give up their careers. A few weeks here can work miracles like that." She paused and then added, "And then maybe others will get the message about what kind of music is permissible today and which isn't. The longer we keep them here, the more likely their careers will just ruin themselves."

She took a breath. "And I think we need to learn more about how they were able to fool us the night of the concert. We may want to send for the interrogator. He can be here tomorrow and then we will find out what they did and how they did it, using whatever means necessary."

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When Craig returned to Starlight House, he found more trouble. Danse was there, talking assertively with representatives from a child welfare office. No Starlight Girls were seen inside the room.

"Alright, Miss Dvorak," one of the men was saying, as Craig walked into the living room. "We will entrust these foster girls to your care on a temporary basis. But Miss Benton had better return soon. You cannot run both Haven House and Starlight House indefinitely by yourself."

"I assure you, Mr. Jenkins, that both groups of youth will be well taken care of. I have a very experienced assistant at Haven House. Trust me that this arrangement is better than breaking up the Starlight Girls and placing them in new foster homes."

"We shall see," he replied, skeptically.

When Jenkins and his colleagues headed for the door, Danse took notice of Craig, seemingly for the first time.

"Hello," she began.

Craig could tell from the quizzical look on her face that she couldn't recall his name or where she had met him.

"Craig Phillips," he said, extending his hand. "We met at the benefit concert. I'm -- "

"Oh, yes, of course," Danse said, breaking into a smile and shaking his hand. Her touch was exceptionally soft. "Aja's boyfriend. It's nice to see you again."

Craig returned the pleasantry. He also could not help but notice that Danse was a strikingly attractive woman. Her type of ethereal and graceful beauty was different than Aja's down-to-earth, confident charm. Danse's long hair, flowing towards her slim waist, was especially alluring.

"So I take it you heard what happened to Jem and the Holograms," Craig said.

"Yes. Video told me everything just before she left. Her grandmother has taken a turn for the worse and she had to leave to be with her," she explained. "I got here as soon as I could. Mrs. Bailey's at her home now."

"Where's Jerrica Benton?"

"I don't know," Danse said. She took a few steps over towards a bottle of water that she'd set down on the coffee table. Craig noticed that even her walk was fluid, as if she nearly floated over the carpet. "No one's been able to get a hold of her. Are you sure she wasn't there when they took the band away this morning?"

"I'm positive," Craig said firmly. "It was Jem and the four Holograms. No one else."

Danse took a sip of her drink. "Jerrica does have a way of…disappearing at times. Sometimes she can be really hard to get a hold of."

"I know, but at a time like this?" Craig questioned.

"Maybe she's at the prison right now, trying to negotiate with the authorities," Danse suggested, though her voice was tentative and she did not meet Craig's eyes.

"Maybe. The Misfits have all been arrested too," Craig said. "I found that out when I went to the Gabor mansion today."

"Video managed to get a hold of Anthony Julian. He'll be coming in on a red eye tonight – or tomorrow morning, technically." She then considered the information that Craig provided. "If the Misfits have been arrested, can't Harvey Gabor do something? He has such wealth and influence…"

"He's on a business trip in Japan."

"We just can't cut any luck," Danse said, sighing. "What do we do?" she despaired.

"Maybe we should try to get over to the prison ourselves," Craig suggested. "I don't know what good it will do but maybe we can at least talk to the authorities there and demand more information on why the groups were arrested. They might treat them better and release them sooner if they knew there were a lot of people who wanted them let out."

Craig and Danse whirled their heads at the sound of a voice.

"Perhaps I can help."

A woman had somehow entered the room silently. She stood in the living room with them now. Craig felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand upright. How had she managed to walk into the mansion without them noticing her?

"Who are you?" Craig asked.

"I am a friend of Jem and the Holograms'. My name is Cynthia Madrigal." She was an attractive, middle-aged woman wearing a tailored suit. She wore understated, classical jewelry including a silver brooch on her jacket and diamond stud earrings. Her graying hair was pulled back from her face. Several lines on her face only added character to her features. Her rich voice conveyed wisdom.

"I've never heard them mention you," Craig began, eyebrows scrunched together.

Danse, however, did not seem to share Craig's skepticism. "Have you heard what happened to them?"

"Yes, and I believe I can help. I will be going to the prison now to talk to the authorities."

"What can you do that will help?" Craig asked. "Do you know someone in power there?"

"I am an attorney. I've worked with the band before on legal matters."

"Well, let's go with you, then. It would beat sitting around here."

"No, Craig. It is best if I work alone."

"Well I think we – " Craig cut off his train of thought. "How did you know my name?"

"Jem once mentioned Aja's boyfriend to me," Cynthia responded, without flinching. "She showed me your picture."

"You must have one good memory," Craig commented, suspiciously.

Danse gently touched a hand to Craig's shoulder. "I think Cynthia is probably our best shot at the moment," she said softly. "Let's trust her. If she thinks it's best to work on this alone, it probably is."

Still unconvinced, Craig decided not to argue. He turned to Cynthia and said, "The Misfits have also been arrested. My sister Mary – Stormer – is one of them."

"I will make every effort to secure their release as well," Cynthia said, in her calm and competent manner.

"I also learned that Pizzazz's mother, a woman named Gail Nye, is there too but not as a prisoner. She's one of the higher-ups in the Morality Office – at least at their regional headquarters. I don't know what kind of relationship she has with her daughter, but she may be able to help."

Cynthia nodded. "Gail Nye you said her name was?"

"Yes," Craig responded. He then turned his back to Cynthia and looked at Danse. "Danse, we can't just trust this stranger. We have no idea who she is. I've never heard of her. We can't leave the fate of….no offense, Cynthia," he said, turning back towards the mysterious woman.

But she was gone. Cynthia had managed to suddenly disappear.

Craig looked at Danse again. He closed his mouth, not wanting to appear as flustered as he felt inside.

"I know this seems odd Craig," Danse began soothingly, stepping closer towards him. "But sometimes…strange things happen around Jem and the Holograms. I can't explain it, but I've known the band for years. Sometimes you just need to trust that everything will turn out alright and that the band has….resources."

"This isn't the first time that I've heard that," Craig said, clearly frustrated. "It's not the first time I've heard that we just have to trust them even though they can't or won't tell us the full story. What is the big secret?" he asked, though the question was a rhetorical one.

Danse did not share his desire for answers. "I think we just need to have faith and realize that things will turn out alright. If a friend of Jem's is here, that's always a good sign."

"Even a mysterious friend who we've never heard of?" Craig shook his head. "So does the band treat all their friends this way…just leaving them in the dark?" He also wondered whether Danse was truly content with this situation or whether she knew more than she was letting on.

Terri entered the room. "Danse, can you help us? Naomi's crying – she's scared and she keeps asking for Shana," she said, referring to one of the new, youngest girls.

"I'll be right there," Danse responded, eager to end the conversation with Craig.

Meanwhile, Ashley turned towards Deidre. They had been sitting quietly on the staircase. "I wonder if they got arrested because of Stormer," Ashley whispered.

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Returning from dinner, Roxy and Jetta walked past Pizzazz and Stormer's cell. They made eye contact as they passed. The four band members exchanged looks during those brief seconds that conveyed fear, caring, uncertainty, and determination.

"So – er, you guys okay in there?" Roxy asked, raising her voice, once she and Jetta had been locked back inside their cell. She knew if she spoke loud enough she could be heard by the others, and the guards had already left the area.

"We're just fine, Roxy," Pizzazz called.

Roxy and Jetta exchanged a look. Pizzazz's voice, while sounding like normal upon first listening, also conveyed some disquiet.

"Missed you at dinner, luvs," Jetta added, a forced breeziness to her tone.

"We'll be fine," Stormer added. "But thank you for asking."

Stormer looked at Pizzazz. Both knew that this method of communication with the others was awkward, and now was not the time to be giving them the full story of what had just occurred. In order for them speak loud enough to be heard, half of the prisoners in this wing would be able to hear their conversation as well. Besides, Stormer also knew that it was up to Pizzazz how much she wanted to disclose and, understandably she probably did not want to relate the entire story.

"How's your neck, Roxy?" Stormer called.

"It's alright," she answered, with a glance in Jetta's direction.

The group then quieted down. At some point, Pizzazz pulled out the newspaper she had retrieved earlier from the library and began to read. Stormer took it as a good sign. She returned to her book, ignoring the rumbling of her stomach. She knew that she had a long time to wait before she would be allowed to eat anything. Her appetite had started to return.

"Your cold seems a lot better," Pizzazz said after a while, breaking a long silence.

"It is," Stormer nodded. "Whatever I had, it must've been one of those twenty-four hour things." She then paused and, realizing the significance of Pizzazz's comment, said, "Thanks for asking."

Pizzazz had a look on her face, almost as if she wanted to say more. Stormer regarded her for a second or two, and then opened her mouth to say something encouraging when she heard voices and the sounds of heavy footsteps.

"Lights out, ladies," one of the guards yelled. "It's time for bed."

The lighting level of the entire wing decreased sharply. Sounds of other prisoners reaching for blankets could be heard.

"Sheesh, already?" Pizzazz muttered. She was tired, however. Her emotional state was making her entire body feel fatigued. "Damn I miss my bed at home!" she said into the darkness.

"Me too!" Stormer replied. "No wonder Roxy's neck hurt her."

Stormer kept her ears alert and ready, waiting for something from Pizzazz. Her intuition told her that the singer was getting ready to speak, and that putting the words together would not be easy for Pizzazz.

"What a day," Pizzazz finally commented.

This was an atypical Pizzazz remark. Stormer pondered it for a second or two, while Pizzazz went on, "I can't believe we're gonna spend another night in this stupid jail. What a shitty day," she repeated.

Stormer then tentatively piped up, "Do you wanna talk about…what happened before…with the person who visited us?"

"No," came Pizzazz's flat reply.

Her answer was quite truthful. She was mortified that Stormer had seen her so weak, had seen her weep. Stormer had listened to Pizzazz's mother verbally denigrate her and she had been unable to do anything in response.

But intriguingly, Pizzazz wasn't angry. She had no desire to throw something or scream at Stormer. Perhaps she was physically weak from hunger and from crying (the latter being an action her body was unaccustomed to). But as Pizzazz turned over in bed, she realized that it was more than that.

A subtle shift had occurred inside Pizzazz's mind somewhere during the past several hours. You had to demonstrate your caring for other people. You had to allow yourself to _care_ in the first place. If you didn't, the consequences could be dire. Her own memories left no doubt of that. Pizzazz's mother had left her decades ago and the consequences were still with Pizzazz to this day. She wondered if she could ever have a normal life – whatever that meant – as a result of what her mother did.

But Stormer was right here with her. Obviously they had no choice but to occupy the same space while in this cell, but Stormer's support during the past few hours had spoken volumes. As uncomfortable as it had been to reflect on this, it was true.

And Roxy and Jetta would be right there too, if they could – of that Pizzazz was certain.

Pizzazz knew that this caring thing couldn't work one way though. A voice seemed to ring in her mind admonishing, 'You gotta give it to get it.' So she slowly opened her mouth.

"Hey Stormer," she began. "You – er, you had a point there earlier. With what you were sayin' about me. I'll, uh, I'll try….I'll try harder." She then made a decision within an instant, "And I'll sing those lyrics you wrote, if we ever get out of this dump. They were good."

"Thanks, Pizzazz," Stormer said softly, unsure of how to tread in these new waters. "And you were right on about some of what you said too. I do appreciate the stuff you've done, like asking Jem for help and such."

"Cool."

They ended their conversation there. It was almost a relief to both of them; they had said what needed to be stated for the time being. Within a few minutes, Pizzazz drifted off into a strangely contented sleep.

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The prisoners in the adjacent cell did not find slumber so easily. Jetta sat upright on her cot, her blanket wrapped around her tightly. She forced herself to take a deep breath in and expel it outwards.

They could return at any moment. Last night the would-be assailants were chased off by other guards, but tonight there was no such guarantee of a repeat occurrence. The guards might come back and if they did, resistance would be pointless. She and Roxy could fight them off – both of them had the skills of those who spent much of their youth on the streets – but eventually they would be overpowered and brutalized. The thought, which was both nauseating and terrifying, looped itself inside Jetta's mind over and over again.

In the darkness, she saw Roxy turn over on her cot and sigh as she fluffed her pillow.

"Can't sleep?" Jetta whispered.

"My damn neck's still killin' me," Roxy groaned. "I'm not even that tired," she added. Her afternoon nap now left her devoid of drowsiness.

Both women were silent for a few moments. Roxy then peered at Jetta. "Why're you sittin' up? Aren't you even gonna try to get some sleep?"

Jetta contemplated her response for a few seconds. She then replied, her voice an eerie whisper, "What if they come back?"

"Who?" Roxy asked. She then realized what Jetta meant. "Oh. Them."

Jetta looked incredulously at her bandmate. Roxy hadn't been flustered by their encounter with the guards last night. Perhaps deep down she was worried a bit but it seemed to Jetta that the confrontation just hadn't made much of an impact on Roxy, and that Roxy had not spent the day fearing another such occurrence.

Jetta had. Her sharp mind would have been churning out numerous ways to handle the situation, but as she saw it, they were trapped. The best plan that Jetta had been able to formulate would be for them to try to communicate with their potential rapists and let them know that they were close friends with Phyllis Gabor, daughter of the billionaire Harvey Gabor, and that a hoard of attorneys would be after them should they harm Jetta and Roxy.

But Jetta didn't think that attempts to reason with them would succeed. It hadn't worked with her uncle either.

And if they were assaulted, would the authorities even listen to or believe them? Jetta's parents hadn't.

So their only other option would be to try to fight them off, with the heels ripped from Roxy's shoes as their only weapons. The guards would have access to guns and the fight would likely be over quickly. Jetta shuddered violently.

"They won't come back," Roxy said. "The other guards told 'em they'd get in big trouble if they touched us."

"So what's stopping them from sneaking back in here without the other guards' knowledge?" Jetta asked. Her voice shook.

"I don't think that's gonna happen. But if it does, we fight 'em off," Roxy said, her voice casual. "I got our weapons under my pillow."

"But we'll need time to get ready," Jetta stuttered. "I mean, we can't let them sneak up on us. Do you…would you do what you did last night?"

Jetta despised the weakness in her voice and the very fact that she had to ask Roxy for a favor. But she saw no alternative.

Roxy rose from the cot. "Yeah. I'll do it, but I don't think it's gonna help the cramp in my neck any."

"I could…give it another rub down," Jetta offered.

"Nah, that's okay," Roxy mumbled as she rose from her cot. She gathered her blanket and the pillow and did not complain as she stationed herself at the cell's entrance.

In the darkness, Jetta observed Roxy lying on the hard floor of the cell. She wished that she had had a protector like that years ago.

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'God that was embarrassing,' Kimber thought. She reached for the sink and washed her hands in the cold water. No soap had been provided and the towel was filthy. Against her better judgment, she wiped her wet hands on her uniform pants.

Although Kimber and her bandmates were as close as sisters and customarily shared everything, the idea of using the toilet in the prison cell was still humiliating. Not even a curtain shielded the toilet from the rest of the cell.

Kimber padded back over to the bed she was sharing with Raya. It was not nearly big enough to accommodate both of them, even with Raya crammed against the wall and both women on their sides. It felt to Kimber as though every inch of Raya was pressed against her body. One of Raya's arms had to go around Kimber's torso as there was nowhere else for it to be placed.

'At least I won't be cold in here,' Kimber thought. The cell was chilly.

Meanwhile, Aja pulled her blanket around her. It had a huge hole in the middle and did little to stave off the cold. Her stomach grumbled when she thought of the repulsive dinner she'd choked down, and she had to fight off panic at the thought of staying in jail for an indeterminate duration.

Aja decided to try to use positive imagery as a soother. She visualized Craig's smiling face. She felt confident knowing that he surely was doing all he could to help the band. Her mind then went on to form a montage of pleasant Craig-related thoughts. She remembered their talks with each other, thinking of the strong and gentle sides to his personality which she loved. She focused on his skilled drumming, smiling at how much she liked to watch his muscular arms as he played. She remembered running her fingers through his hair. She thought of what it felt like to kiss him, to gently touch her tongue against his. She remembered their one date when they had barbequed and Craig had taken his shirt off. She had nearly begun to salivate that afternoon and it had not been over the grilled steaks. Aja no longer felt the least bit cold.

Kimber heard a gentle gasp emanating from Jem's bed, which was directly above her own.

"What is it?" Shana whispered.

"I was just contacted by…a friend," Jem whispered back. She clung to the idea that the authorities might be monitoring them, and thus was being deliberately vague. "She has a plan."

"Yes!" Aja exclaimed.

"She didn't say more."

"Yay!" Kimber exclaimed. "I knew we wouldn't be here that long."

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Having taken on the guise of a lawyer named Cynthia Madrigal, Synergy experienced little trouble entering the prison. She used a new program to lull the guard who met her into a state of semi-hypnosis. He brought her directly to the office in which Gail Nye had taken up temporary residence.

Despite the fact that midnight was approaching, Gail was still working. She had not yet checked into the hotel which held her reservation. She had no friends, and no family that she acknowledged. She had no hobbies nor did she ever take a vacation. The Morality Office was her life.

"What is the meaning of this?" Gail stood up at the intrusion. "I am not to be disturbed, especially not at this hour."

A few seconds of being around Synergy quieted her down. The super-computer emanated a soft rhythmic sound and projected visual images which virtually entranced Gail within a matter of seconds. She was a strong woman and attempted to fight back, but Synergy's program was even stronger and more persistent. Soon the lulling images and sounds had taken hold of Gail's mind.

The guard who had escorted Synergy to Gail's office silently returned to his post, soon to be forgetting the encounter with "Cynthia Madrigal" altogether.

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Within twenty minutes, Officer Nye's report was complete. The two rock bands posed no threat to society, and given that they had all passed their blood tests, they were to be released immediately.

As Gail wrote up the report, Synergy interfaced with the Morality Office's computers. She was glad that she had been able to trace Craig's trek to Tech Rat's headquarters. Techrat's detailed records and knowledge of several Morality Office codes enabled Synergy to crack their files easily. She modified their records of the bands' blood tests, including the telltale instance of Kimber having undergone the test twice on the night of the benefit concert. And for good measure, she changed Stormer's test result from that night in Chicago so that it no longer read "inconclusive" and was changed to a "pass".

When Officer Houghton opened his computer the following morning, he would be enraptured by a program Synergy placed inside. It would slowly cloud his memories of the blood tests from the concert. Houghton might retain a hazy memory of a discrepancy, but the computer files would not corroborate any instances of falsified records.

"This way," Nye gestured at Synergy, as if to lead her towards the prison cells. Moving as if a woman possessed, Gail walked steadily down the hall. She did not notice that "Cynthia Madrigal" had disappeared. Synergy wanted to be spotted by as few people as possible.

The wing where Jem and the Holograms were being kept was closer to Gail's office. She reached the quintet's cell and unceremoniously unlocked the door. The five women bolted upright as soon as they heard the sounds of keys jangling.

"You're free to go," Gail said, her voice nearly a monotone.

Jem and the Holograms looked at each other, nervous and excited. They decided that now was not the time to ask questions, so they mutely followed the strange woman.

Upon reaching the waiting area near the exit, Gail handed some papers to the guards stationed there, stating, "These women have been released. Here are the papers authorizing the release."

As the guard examined their papers, Gail said to the band, "You can wait here for the other band if you like, or you can leave as soon as he finishes reviewing your release papers."

Jem eyed Gail, wondering why the woman failed to make eye contact with her. She seemed almost hypnotized, her voice distant and flat. Kimber, meanwhile, studied Gail's features and noticed a familiarity.

"The papers look good," the male officer said. "You ladies may leave whenever you like. There's a payphone there," he gestured at the utilitarian wall.

Jem looked at her band. "I guess we should stay and wait for the Misfits. Assuming they are this other band. It's not like we can go anywhere without a car, anyway."

The others nodded. Aja then added, "We should call Starlight House in the meantime, to let them know we're okay. And to see if someone's been waiting for word on us and can come pick us up."

Kimber turned towards the male guard and mustered up her most beguiling smile, "Um, can we borrow some change? Please?" Even with her weary eyes, not a trace of make-up on her face, and her hair askew, Kimber possessed an ebullience and charm that few could resist.

As he handed her a few coins, Gail left the waiting area.

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Danse jumped as soon as the phone rang. She had been dozing lightly on the sofa in Starlight House's family room. It was the kind of sleep where one knows that she is still half-conscious, where one feels as if the lids of her eyes aren't even closed and she can still sense what's around you.

"Hello?" she asked, before the second ring.

"Hi, it's Jem. Who is this?"

"It's Danse! Oh, Jem thank goodness! Are you alright?"

"Yes. We've been released. It looks like the Misfits are going to be released too."

"I'll call Craig and be right there to come get you!"

As soon as she was off the phone with Jem, Danse phoned the Phillips residence. Craig had been forced to return home because regulations prevented any male from sleeping over at the foster home for girls. He also answered the phone before the second ring and it was evident that he was fully awake.

"I'll meet you at the prison!" Craig vowed.

Danse swiftly changed out of her pajamas. Craig had never undressed for bed and did not need to change his apparel.

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The trek to the cells containing the Misfits would take at least fifteen minutes for Gail to complete; the prison was large and the Misfits' cells were in a different wing of the complex than the Holograms'. Gail was also unable to move swiftly. Under Synergy's hypnosis, her movements were heavy and slow.

The jail was quiet at this hour. Her every footstep echoed. Gail passed only a few guards and they avoided eye contact with her. She was so much farther up on the Morality Office totem pole than they were, it would be inappropriate for them to smile or greet her unless they were spoken to first.

Walking down the long, dark hallways, Gail's mind began to wander. What a strange day it had been. She was used to working 14 hour days and becoming fatigued. It seemed almost as if an eternity since her flight had landed this morning. She vaguely remembered reviewing reports with Officer Houghton in his office earlier, but that memory was somehow clouded and she could recall no details.

Gail's footsteps quickened in pace. She had satisfied some curiosity earlier today as she had seen her daughter in person. She recalled feeling a tug of satisfaction and superiority. A confirmation that she had done the right thing.

She hesitated before rounding a corner towards the elevator. 'Where am I going again?' she wondered. 'Oh yes. To release four more prisoners.' Her thoughts halted again. 'Including that woman who is my rock star daughter. Why I am releasing her?'

Gail couldn't answer that question. It made no sense to her. As she waited for the elevator, she wanted to ponder it further but her thoughts kept careening away from there and urging her to proceed to the jail cells. She ignored the doubts though they grew evermore persistent and harder to brush aside.

Roxy leapt to her feet as soon as she heard the purposeful footsteps and saw the silvery glint of keys. Jetta jumped from the bed and pressed her back against the wall of the cell.

Roxy wheeled about to stare at Jetta's shaking form. "Chill. Just chill," she ordered, and turned to study the new possible adversary.

"You are being released," Gail began. "Follow me."

"Alright!" Roxy exclaimed loudly. "'Bout time." She turned her head and looked at Jetta. "Told ya, didn't I?"

Jetta was too relieved to question the change in her luck. She stepped through the open cell door to freedom

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I can't believe that I had fallen asleep but I must've. I felt a jolt and opened my eyes when I'd heard Roxy's exclamations from the adjacent cell.

And then I froze again when I saw Pizzazz's mother standing outside our cell. I wanted to gasp but my mouth was frozen. I blinked when I saw Roxy and Jetta standing behind her as she unlocked our cell.

Pizzazz was sleeping soundly. She remained asleep even when the door to the cell opened. I gently nudged her awake.

"You are being released," Pizzazz's mother said. "Follow me."

It was really weird. She sounded almost like she was on drugs or something. She had this blank look on her face and her eyes might as well have been in another zip code. It was the same woman who had visited us before, but in a way she was not the same woman at all if that makes any sense. She was almost like a zombie, though it seemed this trance (or whatever it was) had a fragile hold on her.

Pizzazz sat up in her cot. I saw her eyes begin to focus. "M-mom?" she asked. "Why are you releasing me?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jetta and Roxy exchange a look of shock.

But I was much more concerned by what I saw on Pizzazz's mom's face. Suddenly her eyes came back to life. Color returned to her face and she looked a lot more like the person I had met earlier in the day. I could just feel the fact that her senses were returning to her and the zombie was gone.

"What am I doing?" she breathed, I guess asking herself. "Why would I be releasing prisoners?" She shook her head and questioned, in a commanding toe that I guessed was her usual one, "What is going on here?"

And then I can't explain what I did next. All I knew –somehow -- was that our chances at getting out of this hell-hole were about to go right down the drain. If I didn't do something quick, Pizzazz's mother was going to lock us back up and we'd never leave.

"You're rescuing your daughter," I said. My voice sounded raspy as usual, and both firm and gentle at the same time. I used a tone that I sometimes used with Pizzazz herself. "You're doing it because it's the right thing to do, and you want to get us out of here so she can live her life. And you're doing it to try to make up for some of what you put her through years ago."

Pizzazz's mom looked as if she was going to say something. Her gaze was squarely on Pizzazz; she didn't even look at me. I thought I may have seen some hesitation, so I spoke up again.

"And after all, if you let her go, you'll never, ever have to see her again. She can leave, and nobody will ever know who she is."

She then blinked and said, "Yes. Phyllis, I want you gone. And I never want to see you again after this."

Pizzazz had a look of shame on her face as she rose to her feet. She didn't respond. We fell in line behind her mother and the rest of our band.

But I knew there was one more thing we had to do. I gave Pizzazz a gentle nudge on the arm and mouthed, 'Clash' at her. I knew I was pushing it but we could not leave her here.

And I also knew that I'd need to keep nudging Pizzazz to get her to do the right thing. I didn't mind playing that role, I decided. Maybe that's just what she needs – a little push here and there and she really can do the right thing.

"We have a friend who needs to be released as well," Pizzazz said. This time she had a hint of confidence in her voice. I was kinda proud of her for that.

"I'll see what I can do."

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Just as Danse and Craig's two vehicles pulled into the parking lot, the Misfits and Clash were escorted to the waiting area by Gail. The same officer reviewed the signed papers authorizing their release and quickly ushered the ten women outside.

In the parking lot, it was pandemonium. A pleasant sort of chaos took place, but chaos nonetheless. Kimber spotted Stormer and hugged her tightly.

"I'm so glad you're safe!" Kimber exclaimed.

Stormer, meanwhile, was shocked to see Kimber. "W-what are you doing here? Did you come all this way to pick us up?" She then took note of Kimber's prison uniform. "Oh my God…you were arrested too?"

"We all were. We're free now!" She then pulled back and asked, "But how did you pass the blood test? They did test you, didn't they?"

"They did….and I frankly have no idea how I passed."

Shana overheard the exchange and grasped Kimber's arm. "Kimber, sshhh!" she whispered. "We're in the parking lot of the prison itself. Do you want us to be overheard?"

"Sorry," Kimber said, an awkward grin on her face. She then turned back to Stormer and said, "You sound congested. Do you have a cold?"

"Sorta. It's mostly gone now."

Stormer's last several hours had been so intense that she hadn't given much thought to her dwindling cold. Her head swam. Just being outside and drinking in crisp, clean air made her want to dance with joy. She didn't want to analyze the last few days. She just hugged Kimber more tightly and savored every second of freedom.

Meanwhile, as soon as Craig and Aja spotted each other, they embraced tightly. Aja was not even concerned about her unkempt appearance – she was simply delighted to see Craig again.

"Oh, Aja, thank God!" Craig exclaimed. "I've been worried all day."

Aja smiled before reaching for his lips. "Thinking of you helped me keep my sanity today," she said. She then pressed her lips against his.

Meanwhile, Roxy looked at Pizzazz and Jetta, and tilted her head in the direction of Aja and Craig. Nudging Jetta, Roxy made a comment about excessive mushiness and they giggled together.

But then Jetta noticed that Pizzazz was not joining in their gaiety. "You alright, yank?" she whispered, going up to her lead singer and placing a hand on her shoulder.

Roxy, concerned as well, began, "You wanna talk – "

Pizzazz held up a hand as if to silence them both. "Later," she ordered.

When Aja and Craig had finished embracing, Craig spotted his sister. He and Stormer hugged each other. "I'm so glad you're safe," he said.

Danse sought out Shana and said to her, "Anthony was able to get on a red eye flight. I jotted down his flight info for you," she said, handing her a slip of paper. "His plane is landing at 2:35 a.m. Which is only a couple hours away," she added.

Shana smiled that her fiancé would soon be there. "I may as well not go to bed and just get ready to pick him up," she grinned.

Danse also told Jem that Rio was unable to get a flight any earlier than the next day's afternoon.

"Let's get outta here," Kimber suggested to the group. "I so wanna get away from this prison." The massive building towered over them in the background and Kimber felt her stomach dive when she turned around and looked at it.

Jem looked at Pizzazz. She noted that her former rival looked quite flustered, more so than she'd ever seen her. "We should discuss what happened today," Jem suggested. "Maybe our bands should get together – when we've had a chance to get some sleep."

Jem was half-expecting a nasty reply, but Pizzazz just nodded and said, "Yeah. Let's talk tomorrow. I'll call you in the afternoon."

The rest of their bands were amenable to that plan. The large group was now faced with a logistical nightmare. Their only two vehicles were Craig's and Danse's. They decided that Jem and the Holograms would pile into Danse's car, and Craig would drive home the Misfits and Clash. Both cars had four people crammed into their backseats, but it could not be avoided.

Unbeknownst to the bands, one Morality Officer stood by a window and mutely watched their departure. Gail gazed at her daughter as she piled into a car and drove away. For a moment she wondered what might have been.

TO BE CONTINUED

_Feedback: yes, please. I'd really like to know what you think of my fic. Con-crit is most welcome._


	8. Chapter 8

**SURVIVAL OF THE MISFITS**

**Chapter Eight**

* * *

Pizzazz sat in the front seat next to my brother. Somehow Roxy, Jetta, Clash, and I forced our bodies to fit in the backseat.

Our car ride was pretty quiet. I don't think any of us wanted to make small talk or discuss what had happened. We seemed to cling to Jem's idea of getting some sleep and talking it all through later on. We were all pretty exhausted anyway. Besides, it was an awkward bunch to have in the car – Craig has never liked my bandmates, and obviously things were strained with us and Clash as well.

And those of us in the backseat could hardly breathe! Roxy was practically sitting on my lap. Once my head had stopped swimming and I began to accept the notion that I really was free, I became ever more acutely aware of my proximity to Roxy. Her body was pressing into mine. My mind went on a journey during the silent car ride.

You know, back when I first started to realize that I was different, one of the ways that I began to make that realization was because of the feelings I had for my bandmates. They were the women I spent almost all of my waking hours with so it made sense that I'd feel an attraction, I guess. I was attracted to other women, like those I saw in movies or those businesswomen I interacted with, but most of my time was spent with Roxy, Pizzazz, and later Jetta.

I think I've always been attracted to Roxy, ever since I first met her. I didn't want it to ever mess with our friendship though. And that night in the car I realized that I'm so used to either ignoring my feelings or pushing them aside, especially when it comes to a taboo area like sexuality. So ignoring how I felt about Roxy was pretty standard for me. That night though, it was harder to ignore with Roxy's warm body against mine. I was actually aroused, as bad as it might sound to say that.

I guess I have to admit that I do feel an attraction to all of my bandmates. But it has always been strongest towards Roxy. And as tough and fortress-like as she's always been, she's never shied away from making physical contact with me. She's always putting her hand on my shoulder or touching my arm and stuff like that.

Well, there was nothing I could do about my attraction, I decided. Roxy was obviously straight and incapable of returning my feelings in the same way. I was pretty sure she was oblivious to it all and had no idea how attracted to her I really was. I think I hid it decently well. No matter what, I was going to make sure we kept our friendship, and telling her how I felt wasn't going to help the friendship in any way or somehow turn her into a lesbian, so keeping my mouth shut would still be the best plan. I was already used to yearning and hiding, and I guessed I'd just have to stay used to it.

Besides, I knew I was one of the few people Roxy trusted. It takes her forever to open up and offer that trust, and I sure was not about to risk throwing it away.

"Can you drop me off first?" Clash asked, her nasal voice breaking my stream of thought. "It's on the way to the Gabor mansion – if we went to the mansion first you'd have to double back to drop me off."

"Where do you live?" Craig asked. He had never met Clash before but was taking it all in stride, apparently.

Clash gave the address and then added, "It's actually where my, uh friend Gwen lives."

Her words brought me back to the surprising news I'd learned from Clash earlier that day. She had a lover! So maybe it wasn't impossible. Maybe someday I could find someone too, someone who could return my feelings.

"Is this the place?" Craig asked after a while, pulling over next to an apartment complex. It was a smallish, older building made of brick.

"Yeah," Clash answered.

"You want us to wait here, in case Gwen's not home?" I offered. I half-expected to hear my bandmates moan and groan and complain, but they didn't. "You said you didn't know where she was."

"Actually I can kinda just sense that she's here right now," Clash said. For the first time in ages, I saw a smile on her face. She used to look devilish when she smiled but now she looked like a happy pixie. "I know it. Besides, that window on the second floor's hers, and the light is on."

Craning my head around, I could see the window slowly open. At this late hour, there weren't too many lights on but I saw a young woman approach the open window and look down at us.

Clash opened the door and leaped out of the car. She waved frantically at the woman. Obviously Gwen was up and waiting, and Clash understandably looked like she was about to sprint to the apartment to be with her.

But before she left, Clash turned towards us sitting in the car. "Thanks, you guys. I don't know how you did it, but thanks for getting me outta there."

Pizzazz shrugged and, without looking at Clash, said, "Yeah, yeah forget about it."

And then I realized that I didn't want to just let Clash go without giving her a proper farewell. She didn't know it, but she and I had our sexuality in common with each other. And even though we'd never really been friends – and never would be – I knew that I might not ever see her again and felt a strong urge to do something, so that I didn't spend the rest of my life regretting it. I asked Roxy to excuse me, and managed to hoist myself out of the car.

"Goodbye, Clash," I said, extending a hand. "Farewell to you, and I wish you all the best. Stay safe."

"Same here," Clash said. She grasped my hand and shook it. "Hey, I think I still have some old scrapbooks and stuff with you guys in it. I'll send 'em to you when I get a chance."

I thought I heard Pizzazz snort, probably regarding Clash's desire to rid herself of Misfits' memorabilia as an affront. No more pleasantries were exchanged and I got back into the backseat.

Clash went off, apparently into the arms of her lover and probably without any further thoughts of the band she once idolized. Thinking about her and Gwen, I felt a painful surge of jealousy well up inside of me.

But then again, I told myself, I do have three sisters and that is worth gold too. And you can't have it all anyway.

"Ah, I can breathe again now!" Jetta sighed. The backseat was not roomy by any stretch of the imagination but it felt that way with only three bodies occupying it now.

"So, um….who was that?" Craig asked.

"Oh Clash?" I replied. "She's someone…who used to hang out with us. A fan."

Craig left it at that, and before we knew it, we were at the Gabor mansion.

* * *

Craig hugged his sister tightly before releasing her. "I'm so glad you're safe," he whispered.

"Me too," Stormer answered. She returned the hug and then let go, seeing that the others had already ascended the stairs to the main entrance and were waiting for her.

"Let's make sure we talk tomorrow," he said. "I, uh, gotta work tomorrow morning but I'll call you as soon as I can."

Craig wanted to hear the full story – the circumstances of the Misfits' arrest, their conditions in the jail. But he wanted to hear it unfiltered and he guessed that his sister would censor herself, at least slightly, around her bandmates. Besides, she looked exhausted and he wanted to let her get some sleep.

As Craig drove away, Pizzazz threw open the door and the Misfits re-entered the Gabor mansion.

"Ah, home!" Pizzazz exclaimed.

Roxy got a strange look on her face, listening to the uncharacteristic proclamation from Pizzazz. But then again, returning to the comforts of a home after the dingy prison would be enough to make anyone smile. Roxy looked around the foyer, seeing it with new eyes and thankful for her return.

"How 'bout a slumber party tonight!" Pizzazz suggested.

Roxy saw, out of the corner of her eye, Stormer and Jetta exchange a look.

"Pizzazz, I just wanna get outta these icky uniforms, take a shower, and get some damn sleep. I ain't up to another party in front of the TV," Roxy responded as she rubbed her sore neck.

No sooner were the words out than did Roxy regret them. In an instant she recalled the events at the prison, the fact that Pizzazz had referred to that strange woman as "Mom". She vividly recalled what Pizzazz had said about her mother that day, weeks ago, when the four of them had opened up inside Roxy's own room and talked about their childhoods. Pizzazz's desire for a slumber perhaps meant more than Roxy had initially thought.

"But on second thought, maybe it ain't such a bad idea," Roxy admitted. "But can we do more actual sleeping during the slumber party and less partyin'?"

"You said it," Jetta said, looking at Roxy.

"Sure!" Pizzazz replied.

The Misfits headed for their individual rooms to shower and dress. Once they were rejuvenated and a few frozen pizzas were baking in the oven, they reassembled in the rec room. After their meal, they fell asleep in sleeping bags that were arranged in a circle on the floor, with Pizzazz for once forsaking the sofa bed in favor of a sleeping bag herself.

* * *

Danse pulled up to Starlight House with Jem and the Holograms. "Are you going to be alright?" she asked the group.

"We'll be fine, Danse. I know you're itching to get back to Haven House. Thanks again," Jem smiled.

"You're an angel, Danse," Shana added. "Thank you."

Once the others had conveyed their gratitude and hugged Danse, she drove away to return to Haven House.

The five women walked through the door of the great mansion. They were nearly surprised to see that nothing had changed; the foyer and living room looked the same, even though their last twenty-four hours had been overwhelming.

"I wonder what Clash was doing there," Jem mused.

"Clash was there?" Kimber asked, sounding a bit dazed.

Shana did not have Clash foremost on her mind right then. "Well, I'm going to shower and get ready to head for the airport," she said. "By the time I get there, Anthony's plane will have landed."

"Do you need some company?" Raya asked. "I'll go with you – just as soon as I call my parents and let them know I'm alright."

"Raya, it's past midnight! You should get your sleep. I'll be fine by myself."

"No, I insist. You'll need some company to keep you awake during the ride to the airport. I don't want you falling asleep in the car."

Shana smiled. "Thanks, then. I'd really appreciate your company."

Jem observed them and added, "For once I'm glad Rio's not coming in till later. I better check in with Synergy and find out what she did, how she got us out of there. And I gotta go through Jerrica's messages too. Goodnight, everyone." Jem then left the room.

Aja reached for the telephone. "I'm going to call Craig. If he's still up, I'm going to visit him."

"Tonight?" Kimber asked. She had a surprised and excited look on her face.

Aja smiled. "Tonight. I, um…thinking of him when we were in there was helping to keep me from losing my mind." Her cheeks were red. "I have to be with him," she admitted, knowing her voice had a hint of desperation.

Shana impulsively gave her friend a hug. She understood. She then whispered in her ear, "I want a full report in the morning."

* * *

Aja drove the car with determination. Unlike a car ride not long ago with Craig, this time her resolve remained strong. Her appearance was not glamorous – after her quick shower, she had left her face without make-up. The jeans and blouse she'd selected had been among the first items in her closet within reach. She did, however, don sensual satin undergarments that she had purchased just a couple days ago. And she ensured that the top few buttons on her blouse were left undone. Aja felt nearly delirious with freedom.

Their phone conversation had been brief. Craig had sounded both delighted and unsurprised to hear her voice.

"Of course you can come over," he had said. "I'm dying to see you."

"Me too!" Aja admitted. "But…you sure it'll be okay? By the time I get there, it'll be almost one in the morning. Aren't you working tomorrow at the shipping company?"

"Yeah, I've gotta be there at nine. But so what? I'll get through the day on cups of coffee," he smiled. "I just want to be with you."

His voice had filled Aja's body with warmth and excitement. She practically tingled. Her heart beat with joy, anticipation, and only a small measure of nervousness.

When Craig opened the door, Aja didn't even wait for it to close before she threw her arms around him and reached for his lips. Craig's response was equally as passionate. Gripping her tightly he returned the kiss with vigor. Aja felt her rational side pleasantly melt away as she drowned in the kiss. The touches of his tongue against hers were electric.

"Oh Craig," Aja gasped with delight.

Somehow, the couple made their way to the cozy sofa, Aja refusing Craig's hasty offer of something to drink. Snuggled against each other, they continued to kiss though this time at a more leisurely pace. Aja leaned into Craig as their lips slowly danced together. She allowed her hands to wander over Craig's chest and shoulders, spending time caressing his muscular arms. She had always loved his arms. She wondered, as she had so many times, what he looked like without clothing and was nearly heady at the thought that tonight she would find out.

As enraptured as he was by his feelings for Aja and their intense kisses, Craig managed to break away for a breather. "I am so glad you're back," he murmured. "I was worried about you."

"I meant what I said in the parking lot," Aja breathed. "When I had to lie down on the cot in that awful cell, I thought of you. The cell was freezing and I just had this blanket with a huge hole in it. But I kept thinking of you and I felt better. I felt warm all over."

Aja took a breath and then said, "I think I love you, Craig."

"Oh, Aja," he whispered. "I love you too."

Aja reached for him again, wanting him badly this time. But before she could touch her lips against his once more, he pulled away.

"What is it?" Aja whispered.

His eyes met hers before looking downwards. "Aja, it's just that when I think of how much I love you…I have a hard time with how much I worry about you. You and your band…you have all these secrets. And I don't know what they all mean but I think you might continue to be in danger. I wish I knew more so maybe I could help, and not feel so useless during a crisis like this one."

"Trust me, Craig. You weren't useless. We'll be alright."

"But Aja, you spent the entire day in jail," he insisted. "What if next time we can't get you released so quickly? And speaking of that -- who's Cynthia Madrigal?"

"Who?" Aja asked.

"She said she was a friend of the band's, an attorney. She appeared out of nowhere – literally – at Starlight House today when I was there with Danse. She said she would help you. Then she disappeared."

Aja broke off his questioning gaze. She didn't know the details of how Synergy had rescued them and silently berated herself for not investigating before tearing off for Craig. She surmised the truth but could not share it with Craig.

Upon seeing that Aja's eyes were hiding something, Craig continued, "And making things even more strange was the fact that Jerrica Benton was nowhere to be found today. We couldn't get a hold of her. It was almost like she vanished. She didn't even come to pick you up today." Craig shook his head. "I know she's a busy woman but what could possibly take precedence over getting her band -- her sister and her foster-sisters -- out of jail? But no one's seen or heard from her at all today."

Aja could not think of a reply. The passion and excitement she had felt was slowly, achingly, retreating from her body and mind. She felt a mild headache beginning to form as she moved slightly away from Craig.

"Is Jerrica…is she somehow that Cynthia Madrigal?" Craig asked, his voice just above a whisper. The possibility had just now hit him. "But that's impossible," he said, more to himself than Aja. "The attorney was a middle-aged woman. But then…she seemed kind of like her." He gasped as another thought crept up upon him. "Or is Jerrica really Jem? Is that why she wasn't here today?"

Aja's eyes continued to evade Craig's as she blushed down to the roots of her hair. He continued, "I mean, I think I've seen them together but when you add it all up, it seems like that has to be it."

Aja bit her lip as her heart continued to sink towards her gut.

Craig reached for her hand and held it tightly. "I want to know, Aja. I want to know all the secrets you've been keeping from me. I know you love me and you know that you can trust me."

Aja took a breath. Her insides hurt as she said, "Craig, I can't tell you. I just can't."

"But why not?" he asked, trying to fight the rising irritation and frustration. "Does Anthony know all this? Or Rio?"

Some of Craig's irritation was shared by Aja. "Anthony actually asked about this once, years ago. Shana told him that she can't reveal this information and that he would just need to trust her. He's never asked her again," she said firmly. She paused for emphasis and then added, "He left it at that, and Craig, that is what I need you to do now. If Anthony can leave it alone, then you need to do the same." She took a breath and added, "Rio's been with the band for years and he doesn't know the secrets."

Craig released Aja's hand. "And so I just need to sit here and live in fear over you getting arrested again? I just need to hope that a Cynthia will pop up again and save the day?"

Aja was silent for a few moments. She then said, despising the bite in her voice, "Yes. That's what you need to do."

Craig dejectedly released Aja's hand. "Do you not trust me?"

"Do you trust me?" Aja asked. "I told you that we can handle things. It worked out this time."

"But how do we know that everything will work out next time? And what on earth is so secret that you can't tell me, anyway?"

Aja was quiet, ensuring that the tears remained inside of her. She then said, "I can't answer that. And Craig, I really really do want to tell you, and I just cannot. Like I said before, it's not my secret to reveal anyway." She paused and then asked, "But I do wonder….can there really be love without trust?" The question tore at her heart.

"I could ask the same question myself," Craig said softly.

Aja slowly rose from the sofa. She felt that they would spend the rest of the evening talking in circles. "I guess I'd better go home now," she said.

Craig nodded. "I think that would be best."

Craig remained seated as Aja let herself out. Only when her car had hit the road did she allow the tears to flow freely and copiously.

* * *

Craig called me early the next morning. I hadn't slept well that night, though it wasn't due to anxiety and fear. Actually it was because I was so thrilled to be back home and loving the way things were with my band. I kept waking up and looking at the circle of sleeping bags that contained Pizzazz, Roxy, and Jetta. In the moonlight that strained through the window, I looked at their unruly mops of hair and grinned. It was wonderful to be home and to be free, with the people I cared about. And I kept thinking of Clash and her girlfriend too – for some reason it totally warmed my heart.

But I should say that I knew Jetta hadn't slept well. She did a lot of tossing and turning, and she got up a few times. I contemplated going after her but I was kinda halfway between sleep and consciousness and I thought she maybe wouldn't want to talk either.

When I talked to Craig before his shift at the shipping company the next morning, his voice was weary and a bit slow.

"I met Techrat," Craig told me.

"Really?" I asked. "How'd you ever find him?"

"Jetta's address book. I paid him a visit and told him what had happened. He did some research and found out that Pizzazz's mother was one of the big wigs at the Morality Office, and that she'd gone to the prison."

"He's good with tapping into computer files," I murmured. I got the idea that there was more there; that Craig wanted to talk about this visit with Techrat and what it meant. But maybe he thought now was not the time.

I then asked, "Craig, are you alright? You sound like you didn't get much sleep last night."

"No, I'm fine. Well, other than the fact that my girlfriend and my sister got arrested and I have no idea how they managed to get released!"

"I wish I knew. I do think Pizzazz's mom had to have been behind it. She's the one who escorted us out and signed the papers. But something was off too. She looked….I can't describe it, but she looked like she was zoned out. Under a spell or something." I sighed and added, "I still don't know how I passed the blood test either."

I could tell that Craig wasn't happy with all this ambiguity. We talked some more and then I asked, "We're probably going to be having a meeting today with Jem and the Holograms to discuss what happened. Jem suggested it before we left. Are you gonna be there?"

"I don't think so. I gotta work today and then I got a gig with the band tonight. A graduation party," he said, sounding hesitant. He paused and then said, "But let me know what happens, okay? Will you call me after you meet?"

"Of course I will. And Craig…thank you for everything."

* * *

Jerrica was beginning to have serious second thoughts about Jem's suggestion the previous night. Jem had told Pizzazz that their two bands should get together to discuss what had happened to them. It had seemed like a very logical idea at the time. The more she thought about it now however, the more she realized how that type of discussion put Synergy at grave risk, and she questioned Jem's sanity for making the suggestion.

'How can we discuss what happened without discussing how we were released?' Jerrica wondered. Synergy had, of course, given her the full story including the mention of Pizzazz's mother and the Misfits' associate who was a computer genius. 'We sure can't tell them Synergy used a new hypnosis program she developed to put Pizzazz's mother – and a few guards -- in a trance! But they have to know something's up, that something was done to Pizzazz's mother to make her want to release everyone.'

Jerrica remembered what Harvey Gabor had told her band years ago, the fact that Pizzazz's mother had walked out on the family when Pizzazz was only a child. Obviously they were estranged; Pizzazz had to know at some level that it could not have been due to any sentimental feelings that her mother released her from the jail.

Jerrica believed that one of the best antidotes to any sort of stress or uncertainty was work. She had a mountain of projects to catch up on at Starlight Music, so she found herself rising before 7:00, after only a few hours of sleep, and heading over to the office to catch up. She consoled herself with the idea that perhaps the Misfits would forget Jem's idea.

Her hopes were deflated early that afternoon when Kimber called.

"Stormer just called. She said her group wants to meet with us to talk about what happened, like Jem suggested," Kimber said. "I told her I'd talk to you and Jem and get back to her about when we could meet."

Jerrica sighed. "I'm really thinking that it's not such a good idea to meet with them. They – " Jerrica broke off as Joanie entered the office. "Thanks, Joanie. Just set those down there." When the secretary had left the room, she told Kimber her reasons for not wanting to meet with the other band.

"Sometimes having secrets is a real drag," Kimber concluded. The weight of carrying them around was nearly overpowering.

"It may be, but it's the hand we've been dealt."

"So what do I say? That we changed our minds and we don't care why we were arrested or what we can do to make sure it doesn't happen again?"

As usual, Kimber didn't hide her feelings and her frustration was evident. Jerrica didn't care for the touch of sarcasm she heard either.

"Let me think about this some more," she replied, keeping her tone businesslike. "If you feel you have to call Stormer back today, tell her that I'm tied up. I do have a ton of stuff to do here." She originally had planned to pick Rio up from the airport, but she had spoken to him this morning and urged him to cancel his plans given that the band was now safe. Rio had grudgingly agreed. "Let's put them off for a little while and think about this some more."

"Alright," Kimber consented.

Several hours later, the Holograms arrived at Jerrica's office personally. She blinked as she looked up from her computer screen. She wanted to rub her tired eyes but it would have smudged her eye make-up.

"It's 5:00 in the evening," Aja stated. "Jerrica, let's go. It's time for you to call it a day."

"You've done enough work for today," Shana continued. Lowering her voice, she added, "You spent the entire previous day in jail. And I'm betting you got in here before 8:00 and didn't eat any lunch today either. Let's go – we're taking you out for dinner."

"You guys are too sweet," Jerrica said with a smile. "But I have so much work to do. I can still make our practice session tonight."

"No excuses, sis. Remember what Doctor Murray said? I'm not going to let you die young like dad did," Kimber said, not caring if her words bordered on the melodramatic. She reached for her sister's arm and pulled her out of her chair. "We're going out to dinner and you're not spending anymore time at the office today."

"We love you, Jerrica," Shana said. "Listen to us on this one."

Jerrica smiled as she felt her insides warm. She looked around at the amiable faces of each of her sisters. "Okay," she agreed. "I love you too."

As she reached for her earring to change into Jem, Raya took her arm lightly and held it.

"We think that maybe Jerrica needs this break more than Jem does," Raya suggested.

Jerrica nodded and remained as herself for the group's dinner.

* * *

The previous two days had been awfully intense for us, in every sense of the word. So I didn't push the other Misfits to either talk about all that had happened, or to rehearse or compose music. I was kinda overwhelmed myself and didn't want to think about it much either, at least not during our first day of freedom.

And heck, maybe Jem and the Holograms felt the same way. I'd called Kimber about setting up a meeting with us and them, and she'd said that she'd have to call me back on it. Maybe they needed time to chill as well.

So we spent much of the day by the pool, sunbathing and blaring breezy pop music from the radio. Maybe the others all felt the way that I did – desperate to take in the outdoors, to breathe clean air and feel the hot sun. I had never appreciated it this much before.

We did, though, make a trip to a specialty store that Pizzazz loved. It had all sorts of expensive indulgences like furniture and high-tech equipment. Unbeknownst to us in advance, it was having a going-out-of-business sale. Such liquidation sales were very common, though Pizzazz didn't ever notice or care how much an item cost if she wanted it. At the store, we were recognized by a few people and signed some autographs. It was nothing like the old days, when we were mobbed by fans whenever we were in public. I did make a remark to the others about how nice it was that we still had fans, despite everything. They nodded at my words but no one replied.

So I didn't push it for the band, in terms of dealing with what had happened to us. But I soon became surprised to find out that I didn't need to.

"You guys wanna go out to Braxx for dinner?" Pizzazz asked, when we were finished shopping. She was smiling and looked pleased with her purchase.

"I've kinda had it with fancy restaurants for the time being," Jetta said. Maybe she was thinking of the romp through town that had preceded our arrest two days ago.

"Let's just get take out from the food court," I suggested. "We can take it and eat it at home."

"Let's eat it at the beach," Pizzazz suggested.

So we drove to the beach, the one we had filmed the "Now" video on. I nearly grinned when I saw it looming in the background. Such heartening memories of a new era for our band. The breeze from the ocean was warm and fresh, and the sky multi-hued against the setting sun. My eyes smiled as I began to absorb it. We settled down on the comforting sand, with some sturdy but smooth rocks against our backs.

I once again felt grateful for my freedom. All of this gorgeousness had been denied to us when we were in that hellish prison at the mercy of the guards. And then I stiffened a bit, thinking that I may be out of jail but I didn't really have much freedom either.

"We shot the 'Now' video here," Roxy said, tearing open the cardboard container that held her first slice of pizza. "That was cool."

"It was bloody freezing that evening," Jetta said. "Unseasonably cold. But what a lovely video."

Jetta then opened her mouth as if to say more but ended up yawning loudly.

"We keepin' you awake?" Pizzazz joked as she shoved some fries into her mouth.

"Didn't sleep well last night," Jetta admitted.

"Or the last few nights," Roxy said. "Shit, bein' in jail was a f---ing nightmare. No wonder 'bout not sleepin'."

"A nightmare in every sense of the word," Jetta murmured. I looked at her and her eyes were staring at the ocean.

"So, uh," I began, "a lot happened to us during the last few days."

Pizzazz gripped onto my opening. And she could be as blunt as Roxy when she wanted to. "So what the hell happened that first night with you two and the guards?"

Roxy's reply was equally candid. "They wanted to rape us. We fought 'em off."

"Well, and some other guards came in and told them that they couldn't," Jetta added.

I glanced at her and thought I saw her hands shaking slightly. Somehow seeing Jetta look so unsettled was very disturbing.

"We gotta avoid getting arrested again. At all costs," Pizzazz said.

Jetta shook her head. She still looked in the direction of the water. "Sometimes I think it doesn't matter what we do. If they want to arrest us, they can." She turned to Pizzazz and said, "We need to find a good lawyer and find out what exactly are our rights and what we can do if we get arrested again."

I was proud of my bandmates. They were taking this seriously and not brushing it aside, thinking it could never happen again. I guess there's nothing like a few days in jail to sober you up. My own thoughts were still on the beauty of the outside -- I enviously watched a few seagulls sail by – and I contrasted it with the dingy prison cell and a jail sentence that could have lasted much longer.

Roxy then piped up, boldly, "So, Pizzazz what happened with that woman who freed us? You called her 'Mom'. So like…was she your mother?"

Pizzazz nodded. She had put her food to the side and seemed almost as if she'd lost interest in it.

"You must be having some feelings about seeing her again after all these years," I said softly.

"You know you could always be a school guidance counselor if you wanted, Stormer," Pizzazz quipped. But this time she did not condescend and I thought I even detected some amusement in her voice.

"So it looks like she's a higher-up at the Morality Office," Jetta said. "She had their uniform on and I saw several badges that looked like rank insignia."

"Yeah," Pizzazz agreed dully. She then turned to look at me and said, "But to answer your question, yeah it caused some feelings. It just feels really weird. My head's still kinda blown."

I was amazed, as I hadn't really expected her to open up especially given her break down in front of me in jail just the day before. But then I knew this was still the same old Pizzazz when she spoke again.

"But who needs her? I didn't need her then and I don't need her now."

Roxy then added, "Yeah, what good are mothers anyway?"

I couldn't blame her for her comment, or Jetta for nodding along. I couldn't blame any of them given what they'd been through. But I felt another stab of pain thinking of my mother, who had been gentle though distant, and who was now gone.

After a silence, Roxy asked Pizzazz, "So, then…you okay now?" Out of the corner of my eye I saw her place a hand on Pizzazz's shoulder.

"I'm probably as okay as the rest of us are now," Pizzazz muttered.

She was then silent, and the rest of us followed suit. It wasn't an awkward silence though. I felt comfortable with it.

"So how in the 'ell did we get out of there?" Jetta pondered. "Did she just decide to free us? But when she came to our cell, she looked almost like she was under a spell."

"Like she was zoned out or something," Roxy added.

"But she wasn't by the time she left our cell," I said. "She way sobered up, remember? We had to talk to her to get her to free us."

"Has she ever gone dolally before?" Jetta asked in Pizzazz's direction.

Pizzazz shook her head. "Not that I know of, but I can't say I know the bitch well 'casue I was a kid when she walked out. I don't know what happened at the jail or why she let us go. Or why she looked so spaced out at first. It was very weird."

We talked in circles for a bit longer. None of us could explain the events that evening. But as we were talking, I did have a strange flashback. The night of the benefit concert also had left us bewildered – as to how Jem and the Holograms had somehow convinced the guards that I had taken the test when, in fact, I hadn't. There seemed to be a strange synergy between that night and last night at the jail, but none of us knew what the link was.

Of course none of us could explain why I passed the blood test this time either. We talked about that a bit too. We decided we'd contact Techrat again.

* * *

"I ate like such a pig! I'm going to have to cut back tomorrow."

"You'll be fine, Jerrica. Don't stress over it."

Jerrica and Aja sat inside Jerrica's room a few hours after the group's dinner. With the Starlight Girls turned in for the evening and business at Starlight Music in some semblance of order, Aja had insisted on Jerrica spending some time relaxing. Aja nonchalantly strummed her guitar as Jerrica lay in her reclining chair, with cucumber slices over her eyes and a facial mask slathered on. She had spent too much of the day staring at a computer screen and her weary eyes enjoyed their cool rest.

"I suppose we're going to have to meet with the Misfits sometime to discuss what happened," Jerrica said.

Aja nodded, though her friend couldn't see it with the astringent cucumber slices covering her eyes. "I wonder if Jem might need to pay another visit to Riot," she added.

"I can, but I am positive Aja that he had nothing to do with this. I mean, think about it. They said we were arrested for falsifying government tests the night of the benefit concert. The Morality Office would have had this on file. Maybe they're like any bureaucracy and didn't realize until later that Kimber's results showed up twice. That all could have happened without Riot doing a thing."

"I guess so," Aja replied, sounding decidedly unconvinced. "I still think he and his band will continue to be a thorn in our sides."

"Maybe." Jerrica then removed the cucumber and placed the slices on a plate. "Okay, I feel ridiculous with these on my face. My eyes feel a lot better now."

"It looked kind of cute actually," Aja smiled. "And it went so well with the facial mask you have on."

Jerrica shook her head. "Well, with or without cucumber over my eyes, I can tell that something's bothering you. You weren't yourself at dinner. What's going on?"

Aja took a breath. She removed her guitar from her lap and placed it inside its sturdy case. She had been wanting to talk to someone all day about the sorrow which had lodged itself in her gut since her last encounter with Craig. Keeping it bottled up all day and losing herself in work around the house had not helped.

"Craig and I had a falling out last night," she admitted. "I went to see him after Danse drove us home. We talked. He's really, really worried about us and he wants to know how we got out of jail, who that Cynthia character that Synergy created was….the whole deal."

Aja refrained from adding how they had told each other that they loved each other for the first time, and that she had come very close to losing her virginity that night. It had made their subsequent argument all the more painful and heartbreakingly disappointing.

"You told him nothing, I assume?" Jerrica replied, her tone having taken on that of the strict older sister and leader.

"No, I didn't tell him anything at all. But Jerrica…I think these secrets might tear us apart. Right now I don't even know if I can ever patch things up between us."

"If you love each other, you will."

"I hope so." Aja paused. She then began again, "Jerrica – can I tell him the truth? Please? Not everything, but can't I tell him some of it?" Aja detested how pleading her desperate voice sounded.

"No," Jerrica answered firmly. "I'm sorry, but there's no way. No one outside of the band knows. And his sister is a Misfit – one slip of the tongue, and he tells her…then she might slip and tell Pizzazz, and we'd be done for."

"Would we? They've stopped attacking us, and Eric is gone. Besides, we've got something on them. We know that Stormer is gay."

Jerrica shrugged. "Eric might return any time. I'm sure as soon as -- if -- the economy turns around he'll be back from whatever hole he's crawled into. And about Stormer…the social or political times might change someday too, and maybe being gay won't be such a big deal anymore. So then we'd have nothing on them, and they'd be able to destroy our careers." She took a breath and added, "Really, no matter what is happening economically or socially, knowledge of Synergy will always be a big deal. I'm sorry, Aja but there's no way I can approve of anyone outside of the band knowing. Rio doesn't know; neither does Anthony. You will need to convince Craig to stop asking."

"But I'm not sure he ever will," Aja said. "I mean, look at it from his point of view. He's really worried. He sees us getting hauled off to jail, he has no idea how we were able to be freed and I can't explain it to him. He's only concerned about the woman he loves." She leaned in towards her friend and suggested, "Maybe we don't need to tell him that you're Jem. But maybe we can tell him about Synergy….just say that we have a super-computer, built by your dad, it can project holograms, and that's how we were able to do what we did the night of the concert and get us out of jail."

Jerrica shook her head. Her voice was solid as brick. "No, Aja, I'm sorry. That's still way too much information for someone outside of the band to know. Please don't be stubborn here. Craig just needs to stop asking. Maybe in time he'll forget."

"He won't forget, Jerrica. I don't think he'll ever stop asking. So what do I do? Just let our relationship go down the tubes?" Aja lost the rein she normally kept on her feelings. Her voice broke and tears threatened to spill. "He's the only person I've ever felt this way about. I've never loved anyone else! The thought of not being with him…" Aja broke off, her voice trembling, knowing that if she said anything more she would begin to cry with either sorrow or anger, or both.

Jerrica rose from her chair and put an arm around her friend. Some of her facial mask rubbed against Aja's hair. "I know it's hard," she consoled, her voice barely above a whisper. "Things have been really hard for me and Rio ever since…this happened. But you and Shana and I took a vow to each other, to the group. We later had Kimber and Raya undergo the vow too. We promised never to let anything come between us – 'even boys'," she added, quoting the words of the vow that Jacqui bade them repeat.

"But it doesn't have to come between us, Jerrica," Aja said, fighting for control of her emotions. "If you'd just agree to let me tell him a little."

"Or if he'd agree to stop asking," Jerrica said, dislodging her arm from Aja's shoulders. "I'm sorry, Aja. You know I love you like a sister, but we can't put Synergy – or the band – at risk. If you tell him about her, how long before he guesses the rest? And then how long before Stormer and the rest of the Misfits find out? Our career would be finished, and we'd have no way to support the Starlight Girls."

Jerrica took a breath and then put a hand on Aja's shoulder. "You just need to be firm. Don't back down from letting him know that he won't ever get an answer on this. He'll stop asking eventually."

"Yeah, he'll stop asking because he'll feel he can't trust me and we'll have broken up!"

With that, Aja abruptly exited Jerrica's room.

* * *

Aja composed herself and crossed the hall to Shana's room. Anthony had flown back to New York mid-day; the film couldn't afford to lose even more money by being without its director for too long. So Aja knew her friend would likely be alone and trying to unwind.

Shana smiled when Aja entered the room. "I knew it didn't go well with Craig the minute I saw your face at breakfast," Shana said, as Aja seated herself on the bed. "I also knew you didn't want to talk about it but you'd come find me when you did."

"We may as well have a telepathic link-up," Aja muttered, affectionately rolling her eyes.

"So what happened last night?"

Aja relayed the entire story, including her fresh conversation with Jerrica.

Shana sighed. "This puts such a strain on all of us," she admitted. "If only Jerrica had told Rio from the start."

"Sometimes I think it all comes back to that. She doesn't want him to know, and she worries that the more people who do find out, the riskier it gets for them. Sometimes I think our career wouldn't be over if people knew. Heck, it might even ramp up more interest in us! I love her - -I'm not trying to speak badly of her…" Aja let her voice trail off. She and Shana had held this conversation more than once before, over the years.

"Anthony stopped asking when I put my foot down," Shana recalled. "But he knows something's going on. I think he suspects the truth about Jem and Jerrica."

Aja nodded. "I think a lot of people do. I'd be surprised if Danse isn't onto it."

"Yeah, did you notice the way she never asked about Jerrica? I bet Video suspects too, and probably half the Starlight Girls! I don't think anyone knows the full story but I bet a lot of them have figured out bits and pieces."

Shana got up and sat next to Aja on the bed. She reached for her hand. "I do suspect that Craig is just more…inquisitive than Anthony. Anthony and I have both always been so busy…he's just used to me going off and doing whatever, and he supports me no matter what. I bet Craig, on the other hand, is more used to functioning as a protective big brother. He maybe can't just leave it all alone."

"So where does that leave him and me as a couple?" Aja pondered, glumly.

* * *

Techrat called the next morning. He spoke to Pizzazz and she later filled us in on their conversation. He had completed some research and was calling with the results. As we'd requested of him a while ago, he examined the blood test used by the Morality Office. The Office's own scientists were starting to believe that certain drugs could mask a test result, and many of those drugs are found in over-the-counter medicines. "Such as cold medicine," Pizzazz said, looking at me.

So at least we had our answer as to how I had managed to pass the test a few days ago. I shuddered. It was just blind luck that stress had made my defenses go down and I had gotten a cold. What if I hadn't been taking that medication when we'd been arrested?

I made a run to three different drug stores and, paying cash, cleaned out their supplies of cold medicine containing the ingredients Techrat had relayed to Pizzazz. I then packaged up several boxes of the pills with a typed up note that said, "If blood tests leave you cold, try this." I drove to the place where we had dropped off Clash on the night we were released from jail and left this by their door.

I called Kimber later that day. This time I was more forceful about wanting our bands to meet and she seemed more committed as well. She called back within the hour and suggested 7:00 that evening at Starlight Music.

The day somehow flew by. We spent most of the afternoon at Stinger Sound, working on our music. We played "Ain't Changin' Me" (formerly "Fast and Furious") with Pizzazz singing my new lyrics. The song was powerful, convincing, and electric. I hoped we could release it when we were able to put out another album. Our session totally rocked! For a moment I lost all thoughts of blood tests and prisons.

But as the four of us walked across the street to Starlight Music, my hopes began to sink. Sure, it was a major victory that Pizzazz now liked the lyrics – Roxy and Jetta had too – and that the song sounded better than ever. But given what we knew about censoring of rock music lyrics, what was the likelihood that that track would make it past the censors? Heck, what was the chance that any of the stuff we were working on would? And with the economy in shambles, what was the likelihood that we could even release another album? Our last one had been one of the top selling records during the entire year but Jetta told us it had barely broken even. Like our tour. Besides, who knew even how long we could stay out of jail?

By the time we entered Jerrica Benton's office, my mood was back on the floor. The whole situation seemed so hopeless.

With all the negative thoughts swimming around my head, I didn't pay that much attention during the meeting. I thought of our last meeting with Jem and the Holograms, when our two bands had met so that we could ask Jem to talk to Riot. I was stunned to realize that that meeting had occurred just a week ago but in a way it felt like ages ago. So much had changed.

Just as with that earlier meeting, Jerrica sat behind her desk, typing on her computer and not saying anything. I thought that it was a bit unlike her. When I worked with her during "Back 2 Back", she tended to take command in group settings, usually leading the discussion and setting the direction. I guessed that maybe she clammed up when Jem was around. The mysterious singer did have that effect on people. I wondered if she was jealous of Jem, especially since everyone knew that Jem went out with Rio anytime there was a snazzy affair.

So we talked about what happened. Jem said that they had a really good lawyer who had pleaded for our release. They weren't very forthcoming beyond that. And neither were we; none of us mentioned that the woman who unlocked our cells was Pizzazz's mother. I wondered if Jem and the Holograms knew that. If Pizzazz's mother had kept the Gabor name after the divorce, Jem's hotshot lawyer may have had access to her name and the other band may have figured out the connection.

I do remember at one point Jetta asked Jem for the name of their lawyer who had helped. Jem stuttered, said that the woman's first name was Cynthia and that she didn't recall her last name. I thought maybe Jerrica would speak up and supply the information but she didn't even look up from the stack of papers she was studying.

I felt as if it was a meeting of deception and half-truths, and I was so depressed from thoughts about the miserable state of the music industry, the government, and the economy. (I used to never give even a thought to the last two). I think I said almost nothing during the meeting. I did look up at Aja once and saw my glum looks reflected on her face too. I realized that I hadn't spoken to Craig since yesterday morning, the morning after our release from jail. I made a mental note to call him. His girlfriend looked like misery.

Kimber caught my eye once and gave me an awkward half-smile, and I did the best I could to return it. The other times I looked at her during the meeting she looked frustrated and almost as if she was forcing herself to keep from piping up. I can easily recognize that look on Kimber's face, when she's like a teakettle ready to whistle. Keeping thoughts to herself is not Kimber's strong point and you can recognize when she's making herself do it.

Mercifully no one brought up my blood test or asked how I had passed it. I really wasn't up to discussing it front of the entire group; in fact, the thought made me cringe.

Pizzazz asked at one point if there was a possibility that Riot was behind the arrests. (And when she mentioned his name, Pizzazz did not sound the least bit lovesick as she had in the past. That was a rare bright spot that day -- she is so over him!) Jem said that she had spoken to Riot earlier today and was certain that he had nothing to do with it. I could believe that, actually. I mean Riot sure didn't cause our wild behavior the night we were arrested. It was tempting to think that he could have caused the arrest but it seemed to me like you could get arrested just for behaving "indecorously", as we had.

So basically the conclusion for our two groups was that we weren't sure exactly how we'd gotten free or what to do now and we had to pin our hopes on Jem's great lawyer. Real encouraging, huh? Jem had said that she would have Cynthia do some research and try to determine what exactly is legal and illegal so we could try to avoid another arrest. Even as she said the words, I was thinking that we should just have Techrat do some more research along those lines too, and I surmised that my bandmates were thinking the same thing. The two bands did agree to share whatever information we discovered. But I sensed we hadn't done such a hot job of sharing during the meeting itself so I wasn't that optimistic on that front either.

Jem and the Holograms rode in the Rock n Roadster on their way back to Starlight House. The night air whipped passed them, caressing their long hair.

Jem said, "Well, I think that went well. I don't think they suspect about Synergy."

"You know, the Misfits aren't totally stupid," Kimber countered. "You gotta believe they think something's up, given how Pizzazz's mom was in such a trance when she opened our cells."

Synergy had discovered that the mysterious officer at the prison was Pizzazz's mother and had shared that information with Jem and the Holograms.

Jem shrugged, "Well they didn't say anything about it, thankfully."

Shana, sitting next to Aja in the front seat, turned to her friend and asked gently, "How are you doing, Aja? You've barely spoken at all today." Shana was both concerned for Aja and eager to change the subject, sensing another storm brewing between Kimber and her sister.

As Aja kept her eyes on the road, Raya piped up, "Yeah, we're worried about you." Her voice turned even more tender as she asked, "Have you spoken to Craig today?"

By now, the entire band knew that Aja and Craig had quarreled the night of their return from prison and that their relationship was on ice. The group of friends had no secrets from each other.

"No," Aja sighed. "He hasn't called and I'm not about to call him." She refrained from adding that she had jumped every time the phone had rang that day and she so fervently hoped that there would be a message from him upon their return. She pushed the gas pedal a smidgeon harder.

"Maybe you should," Kimber said. "Call him."

Even as she made the suggestion, Kimber knew it was unlikely that Aja would carry it out. She was stubborn as a mule and from what Kimber knew of Craig, so was he. If they ever did reunite they would need to find a way to work that personality conflict out, Kimber decided.

When the band returned home, there was no message for Aja.

* * *

After our meeting with Jem and the Holograms, we packed inside the van and headed back for the mansion. I slouched in one of the back seats.

"Well that was a damn waste of time," Roxy muttered, as she backed the van up and pulled out of the parking garage. "We got more info out of Techrat than from those twerps."

"Hey, don't call them twerps," I said, softly but insistently. "We know they had something to do with our release, even if they won't tell us what."

"Yeah," Pizzazz agreed with Roxy. "They've always been hiding something. I wish I knew what. I think it's got to do with a lot more than just Jem's identity."

"And wasn't it bloody convenient that they couldn't recall the last name of their lawyer?" Jetta wondered. "I can't believe Jerrica 'Rolodex' Benton didn't know it. I wanted to find this lawyer but I haven't got a baldy how I can do that unless I know her last name."

"We could ask Techrat to search for lawyers with the first name Cynthia. How many can there be in LA?" Roxy said. I thought she had a good point.

"You know what else is buggin' me?" Pizzazz began. She normally has a lot of things bothering her so I wondered what she'd pick now. "We work for Riot. He owns our damn music label. I don't care if he really didn't have anything to do with our arrest. He still's not on our side at all."

"He's such a tosser. We need our own record label," Jetta said. "One that belongs to us and that we run. We can do it."

I gazed at Jetta. None of us knew anything about business. I was the only one who'd even finished high school and I'm smart enough to realize that you need some business acumen to keep from running an enterprise into the ground. There are finance and marketing skills that you'd need a minimum of, if you wanted a business to survive.

On the other hand, Jetta was about as crafty and sharp as it gets and, on a good day, Pizzazz wasn't a slouch in those departments either. And heck Riot managed to run Stinger Sound – albeit with a good staff beneath him, most of them holdovers from the Misfits Music days – and he sure didn't have an MBA either. If we hired the right people and were willing to work harder than we usually do, we could do it.

"But how can we afford it?" I asked, thinking of the biggest obstacle.

"That's the hard part," Pizzazz said. "I'm gonna talk to Daddy when he gets back from his trip. I can ask him to get with the accountants and figure out how much my inheritance is."

The rest of the group continued to discuss the idea. Pizzazz and Jetta really liked it. (Roxy too, but less so. It's not an area she's got a huge amount of interest in herself, but I could tell she liked the idea of getting out of Riot's clutches). As they talked, I started to tune them out because the nervous anxiety feelings had overtaken me again. Once more I felt fear and dread at thinking about the future. Once more my stomach took a plunge and got that unsettled, nothing-can-make-me-feel-better sensation.

At one point Pizzazz was talking about what we could do once the economy got better and the Morality Office was no more. I nearly wanted to shake her….we keep saying "when" but I thought it was more of an "if". Right now it sure didn't seem like things were going to get better anytime soon.

How long before I was arrested again? Whether Riot went after us or not we were still at risk. Obviously our files would show a previous arrest. We were rock stars anyway which had to cast a negative light on us in the first place. How long before I'm forced to take the damn blood test again? Next time I likely wouldn't be strung out on cold pills. And if I were, how long before the Morality Office figures out a way to get around that too? What if Jem and the Holograms aren't around next time to do whatever they did to bail us out the last two times?

The trepidation continued to eat away at my insides. No matter how much money Pizzazz had or how much computer smarts Techrat possessed, I was at risk. No matter how much my bandmates cared about me, I was at risk.

So at some point during the sleepless night that followed our car ride, I reached my decision. As much as I hated the idea, I knew what I had to do.

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED

This is the penultimate chapter. Coming next – the conclusion! Stay tuned, and don't forget to leave some feedback.


	9. Chapter 9

**SURVIVAL OF THE MISFITS**

**Chapter Nine**

_Here is the final chapter. I hope you enjoy reading this tale as much as I enjoyed writing it!_

* * *

I went to see Craig the next morning. He was groggy from a gig the night before – his band had played some corporate function – but he had time to talk. He told me his shift at the packing company didn't begin until noon. I helped myself to some coffee without waiting to be offered. He was not in a good mood.

"What's eating you?" I asked, pulling up a chair and sitting down. "You look like shit."

"I was about to say the same thing to you," my brother replied. "Except I got a pretty good idea of what's bothering you."

I shrugged, "Oh, getting arrested, living somewhere where you can basically get thrown in jail at any time, and all you can do is hope that something will happen and free you – who'd be upset over that?" I spread on the sarcasm pretty thick. Craig's raised an eyebrow or two, I guess because sarcasm's not my normal style.

"So you have no idea how you guys got out of jail the other night, huh?" he asked.

I first told him about how I was able to pass the blood test, and then briefly went over yesterday's meeting with Jem and the Holograms. "They basically told us nothing," I concluded. "And speaking of people who look like shit, Aja looked pretty miserable at that meeting too."

"She did?" he asked, in a way that told me everything.

"Yeah. So, what's going on? Did you guys…" I narrowed my eyes at the realization, "did you break up?"

He sighed, and then got up to pour himself some orange juice. "We had an argument," he admitted, his eyes on the glass. "I confronted her. I want to know what happened, everything – how exactly they got you all out of jail, what happened at the benefit concert. All these secrets her band has. But she refused to tell me anything. She left."

"Oh," I said. I was momentarily speechless. I'd never been in a relationship myself. How could I know what he was going through? And he was so obviously devastated.

"She said she wanted to tell me but she couldn't," he continued. "I just don't get it. Whatever secrets her band has, we need to know them. Times have changed and I can't just sit around all day worrying about her and not able to do anything about it."

Craig sounded really frustrated. I sipped some of my coffee and then realized that I did have something to contribute here. "I don't know a whole lot about relationships, but I know a lot about secrets. Sometimes there are good reasons for keeping them." My thoughts became lost in memories of my confusion over my sexuality and the way I hid it, my heart full of shame, from my bandmates. And the others had had their own secrets too – illiteracy, a mother who had walked out, an uncle, a past she wanted buried. "But sometimes it is better to get it out into the open."

My brother listened and nodded. I continued on.

"You know, I bet she did want to tell you – like you said." I paused, lost in more memories. Then I asked, "Did I ever tell you one of the reasons why I didn't want to join Jem and the Holograms when they offered me the chance?"

"Well, you told me a few different reasons…" he began, sounding perplexed that I wanted to pick at that old scab again.

"One of the reasons was that Jem and the Holograms aren't any more of a democracy than the Misfits are," I said firmly. "Whenever Jem's around, she makes the decisions. Jerrica's the same way, if not worse. They may make their requests with smiles and politeness, but they rule the roost there. Pizzazz did the same with the Misfits; she was just more blunt and rude, though at least you always knew where you stood with her. She's changed for the better anyway." I took a breath and then added, "But that's why I think Aja really does want to share with you. She's just been ordered not to, I bet."

"I've been wondering if Jem and Jerrica are the same person," he admitted.

"They can't be," I shook my head. "I've seen them together several times. Yesterday, in fact."

Craig continued on as if I hadn't spoken. "I really need to figure out if I can live with that. With all these secrets Aja has. It drives me crazy that she can't open up."

We were silent for several moments, just sipping our drinks. Craig got up and started pouring out a bowl of cereal, asking me if I wanted some. I got up to open the refrigerator to see if he had any berries I could top the cereal with, but there was hardly anything in there. He was out of milk so I doused the cereal with the last of the orange juice.

"Hey, Craig," I began anew, once we were seated and munching on our Cheerios. "There's something I came over here to tell you."

"What is it?" he asked. As he looked up, his face had paled by a shade or two. He knew from my tone that this was going to be really serious.

"I have to leave the country," I said. "I can't stay here anymore. I just can't live under the threat of getting thrown in jail, and I can't live being treated like a social disease. It's too dangerous here. So I'm leaving."

"What?" he asked, nearly dropping his spoon.

"Nothing you can say or do is gonna change my mind. Like you've said a dozen times, it's really dangerous here. I can't stay here and take the risk of getting arrested again."

"B-but Mary," he stuttered." What about the hidden room that Aja and I are building? If worse comes to worse, you'll have a hiding place. Er – if Aja and I ever get together and finish it."

"Whether or not you do, that's not the point," I said, shaking my head. "I can't live my life cooped up in a room, in hiding. That's probably just as dangerous as leaving the country."

"Okay, but then why do you think things would be any easier in another country? I mean, are Canada or Mexico treating gay people any better?"

"Yes. I talked to some of the other inmates in jail. And Tech Rat compiled some information too. Right now, nowhere else is rounding up…people like me and putting us in jail."

"That could change," he cautioned.

"And it could also change and continue to get worse here," I countered.

He took an exasperated breath. "But how will you support yourself?"

"I've got plenty of money saved. And I can always earn more busking. Or doing whatever job I need to take, whether it's washing dishes or cleaning bathrooms."

"But what about your safety?"

"Enough of that! Come on, Craig, I am a Misfit -- remember? I can take care of myself." I paused and then said, "You have no idea what I've been able to do."

For a second he got a faraway look in his eyes. He said, "I've got no doubt about that."

Craig then kept trying to convince me not to leave. When he saw that my resolve was as firm as my keyboard case, he insisted on coming with me.

"Fine. But I can't allow you to do this alone. I'm going with."

"It's not necessary," I said, though half-heartedly. Despite my blustering about being able to take care of myself, I sure wouldn't mind his company on this either. "When we were younger, you went off busking in Europe and left me here."

"Things were a lot different then," he insisted. And he was right. "If you're going, then I'm going. Period."

That debate ended there. Pretty soon Craig had to leave for his job. We decided we'd start making plans soon.

My next challenge would be to discuss this with the other Misfits.

* * *

Kimber approached her sister early that morning after a late night consultation with Synergy. She had a case to make and knew she needed facts to back it up. The computer/surrogate mother had armed her with the information she needed.

"Jerrica, I think we need to take a public stand against the Morality Office," Kimber stated.

Jerrica nearly dropped her mascara as Kimber continued, "I mean, look at what happened to us. None of us did anything wrong and we got arrested. We spent a day in jail. We can't let the Morality Office kick us around. We have to publicly come out against them!"

Jerrica was quiet for several seconds. She looked at her sister and began, "Kimber, I know your heart's in the right place. But we can't fight them," she said, sorrow in her voice. "This isn't like the old days when we could just do a fundraiser for Haven House and solve their crisis for the fiscal year and the problem's taken care of. This is a government agency that is extremely powerful. We take a stand at them and we'll just end up in jail, and probably for a much longer period of time."

"I know you're scared," Kimber said. Her voice was nearly a whisper. "I'm scared too. But we have to do the right thing."

Jerrica noted that Kimber's voice was soft and compassionate, without any of the shrill childishness Jerrica had become accustomed to hearing over the years.

Kimber continued, "I'm not going to just sit around and hope that we don't get arrested again. Doing nothing is no guarantee that we'll be okay. It's no guarantee that we won't get arrested again. And it sure as hell won't make the Morality Office go away!"

Jerrica sighed. "I know, Kimber. Trust me, sis. This stuff keeps me awake at night. I worry about how we'll get our next album through the censors. I wonder how we'll be able to support the Starlight Girls. But we just can't fight the government. I mean, they control the media too. How would we get any support?"

"Well, I have a plan," stated a confident Kimber as she whipped out several pieces of paper.

As Kimber spread the papers on Jerrica's dressing table. As the sisters reviewed them, Jerrica could not repress a slight smile. Kimber's idea was foolhardy, likely to end them up in jail again. But the girl had done her homework! With Synergy's help, she uncovered groups of people working against the Morality Office, some of them even infiltrators into the organization's highest ranks. She had found a few media outlets that criticized the Morality Office – and were still in business. She had even uncovered a poll taken in the Morality Office's early days which found that 70 of Americans had opposed them.

Kimber and Synergy had also discovered more disturbing items. Several leaders in the Morality Office openly espoused racism and plans to "separate the races." As Kimber read the highlights of the article, Kimber said, "Look, Jem and the Holograms will be out of business if they keep gaining power. They want to break up our family!"

Jerrica's eyes grew hazy with anger. She heard her mother's voice echoing in her ears as thoughts of being separated from Aja, Shana, and Raya – and half the Starlight Girls – terrified her. The band would be finished and she would be barred from those she loved the most. How dare they! What would Jacqui and Emmett say?

Kimber perhaps sensed her sister's thoughts. "We can make a difference," she said. "Mom and Dad taught us that – that we can change the world for the better. There are lots of people who do agree with us too. We can use our reputation as Jem and the Holograms. We do have a spotless reputation. Heck, people refer to us as the 'goody-goodies of the rock world,'" she added, with a small laugh. "And we have power – we still have so many fans who would back us up. We have to think of their welfare too, and the Starlight Girls. Let's make the world a better place for them, not a worse one."

Jerrica found herself giggling now with joy over her sister's determination and research. "Alright, alright. I think this is crazy and we're gonna get in big trouble, but alright. Let's talk to the others."

Kimber smiled. With Jerrica's agreement, it was a done deal. Aja would readily agree too as she despised the Morality Office. Raya would support whatever the majority wanted, if her parents didn't give her too much grief and worry over it. Shana might be the hardest sell; she had a lot to lose with her wedding coming up so soon. But she was rational and she had a sensitive heart -- she had to know in her gut that it was the right thing to do.

* * *

Before I left Craig that morning, he and I decided to get together again soon to discuss details of our exodus. I nodded mutely, my heart breaking at the thought of my next task.

When I reached the mansion, Roxy and Jetta were still in their rooms, asleep presumably. I actually found Pizzazz in her office, a modest and understated room she rarely inhabited. She had her computer on and was reading contracts. My mouth remained open at the sight of the brash singer working diligently in this sedate setting.

"I'm gonna call the producers at 'Friday Night Rock' today," she said. "We were supposed to be on that show but we missed it 'cause of our arrest. They're gonna have to get us on there next week then."

"I hope they can do it," I said. I looked at Pizzazz, at those eyes I once thought so frozen and unfeeling. "Thanks again for agreeing to sing the lyrics of 'Ain't Changin' Me'."

I think I took her by surprise with that comment. Maybe the awkwardness of her receiving a sincere thank you disturbed her, but I saw her try to relax and even break a smile. "You always write the best hits," she said.

I swallowed the lump in my throat at the rare, and appreciated, compliment.

We later had lunch with the others, Pizzazz and Jetta excitedly talking about their plans for reestablishing Misfits Music. I only half-heartedly listened and picked at my food. My appetite had vanished, thinking of all that lay ahead of me.

Roxy then wanted to play pool. In the rec room, we formed doubles and I ended up being Pizzazz's partner for the game. I could barely keep a steady grip on the pool cue or remember whether we were stripes or solids. As poorly as I played though, Pizzazz said nothing derogatory about it. It was no surprise when Roxy shot the eight ball into the side pocket -- she and Jetta had easily defeated us. The two happily high-fived each other in victory.

Pizzazz just snorted and said, "I think we need a rematch."

Before the others could agree, I spoke up. My voice was already quivering. "Hey guys. Wait a sec. I have something to tell you."

My three boisterous bandmates were instantly quiet. I even saw a passing look of fear on Roxy's face. I heard the chirping of one of the arcade games in the background.

"I've made a decision," I said. "I'm leaving the country. I don't want to, but I have to for my own sake. It's too dangerous here."

Pizzazz's face went pale and her eyes looked alarmed and reproached. None of us said anything or even moved for several seconds. I went up to the singer and put my hand on her shoulder. "Pizzazz, I'm not leaving you. I'm not walking out on you," I said quietly, my voice just a notch or two above a whisper. "I need to do this for my own safety."

At some level, it seemed to me that maybe she understood. She still looked petrified though. I was both pleased and disturbed at the level of power I held over her.

Jetta spoke up, "But Stormer. What about the secret room that Aja and Craig are going to build?"

"Yeah," Roxy said, "and what about what Techrat found out? We know how to fool the blood tests now."

I took a breath and said with all the firmness I could muster, "I refuse to hide under a sink, gulping down cold pills. It's no way to live a life. I'm sure it's a matter of time before they figure out a way around the cold pills anyway. And if they ever really want to find me, they could tear up the mansion and discover any hidden room."

They then hit me with a barrage of questions: 'Where will you go?', 'You really think you're gonna be safer in Mexico or Canada than here?', 'Is Craig going with?', 'When are you gonna leave?'

I answered their questions best as I could and then steadied myself for the next bit. This time my voice couldn't shake. I had to be firm as concrete and give them no time to suggest otherwise.

"I don't expect you guys to come with me," I said. "In fact, it's better if you don't. It'll be a hard life – no glamour and fame, no servants and mansion. You'd hate it and you'd grow to hate me too. Besides, it will be easier for Craig and I to disappear if it's just the two of us. So I gotta insist that you guys stay here."

Pizzazz stood next to me and I impulsively took her hand. "When times get better, I will return," I continued. "Heck, I'm still gonna write music when I'm gone. Who knows? Maybe it'll just be a year or so before the Morality Office is gone and censorship is no more. Then I'll come back and have a ton of songs for us too. We'll have a reunion tour the world will never forget and once again we'll be on top of the charts." I gulped and I knew my eyes were wet. "And while I'm gone, the three of you will be in my heart all the time."

My bandmates were silent and still looked stunned.

Roxy said, her voice small and quiet, "It looks like nothin's gonna stop you."

"You're right," I said. And then I added, "I'm sorry. I wish I didn't have to leave. I really wish things were different."

I don't even remember what we did the rest of that day, or what we all said to each other. Just that the others looked miserable and weren't trying to hide it, and we didn't leave the rec room until nightfall.

* * *

Kimber sat facing Stormer, blinking and not believing her ears. Stormer had requested that they meet at Starlight House; she did not want to risk being overheard in a public setting. The two friends sat opposite each other on Kimber's bed.

"I- I just can't believe that you're leaving the country," Kimber stammered.

Despite all the reasons Stormer had for wanting to go into hiding, it still shocked and hurt Kimber.

"I mean, I told you what Jem and the Holograms are gonna be doing to work against those Morality Office losers," Kimber added hopefully.

"I know," Stormer said. "And I think what you'll be doing is awesome. But we won't see change right away. It's going to take time."

"I guess you're right," Kimber admitted. She looked down at her folded hands and nodded. It wasn't as if she saw Stormer often. The two normally went for months at a time with no contact. But the thought of Stormer going into hiding, of possibly never seeing her again made Kimber feel ill.

"I wish you guys the best of luck though." Stormer paused, and then said, "Kimber, since Craig's going to come with me….well, he won't be around anymore either."

"I know. I can't believe he and Aja still aren't speaking to each other," she answered, glumly. "Actually, I can believe it. I just wish they weren't both so stubborn and one of them would pick up the phone and call the other."

"Craig did tell me that he misses her a lot." Stormer smiled and then added, "And he didn't put me up to saying that."

"Well, even if he did," Kimber began, with a shrug, "who cares? Aja's been dying to call him and wishing he'd call her."

Stormer's eyes twinkled as she said, "Maybe I'll just mention that to Craig. He's been so down in the dumps since their argument."

"And I could do the same with Aja," Kimber added mischievously.

Stormer then asked Kimber if she could keep an eye on the house for them while they were gone, as neither of the Phillips wanted the house to appear abandoned. Kimber readily agreed to stop by several times a week.

Before she left, Stormer reached for her purse and began to rummage around in it. "I was at my family's house earlier today. I was going through a few boxes I store there and I found this."

Stormer's hand cupped a tiny crystal trinket. Crafted in the shape of a piano, it caught the light and sparkled. It looked so delicate, surrounded by Stormer's strong hand.

"My mother gave me this," she said, looking at the precious ornament. "She loved music too." Stormer reached for Kimber's hand and placed it inside her palm. "I want you to have it. As something to remember me by."

Groping for words, Kimber finally said, "Stormer, thank you for the gesture and I'm honored that you want to give me a going-away gift. I will hold onto this while you're gone." Her voice was full of resolve and power. "But I'm giving it back to you as soon as you come back, and if I have anything to do with it, you're gonna be back here really damn soon." She concluded, emphasizing every word, "I'm going to fight the Morality Office with everything I've got."

The two friends spontaneously pulled each other into a warm hug and remained holding each other for several moments.

As soon as Stormer left, Kimber went to find Aja.

* * *

Aja's driving was on fire this time, though her mind was at its most focused and steady. She expertly guided the vehicle through traffic, her thoughts squarely on reaching her destination safely.

As soon as Craig answered the door, Aja's heart melted at the sight of her beloved's face. He didn't even hesitate before pulling her into a hug.

"I missed you so much," he breathed against her ear.

"I missed you too," she said, her voice unsteady and emotional. His strong arms were tightly wrapped around her. They remained standing in the doorway, lost in their embrace -- and then a warm, lingering kiss -- before finally making their way inside Craig's place.

Despite the silent days that had passed since their argument, Aja felt no awkwardness. It was almost as if no time had gone by at all. She found herself leaning against the small kitchen's wall. As Craig reached into the refrigerator for a couple of beers, Aja took her eyes from Craig to glance around the house. Several boxes were stacked against walls and two worn suitcases sat on the living room floor. They were older suitcases which perhaps had belonged to Craig's parents.

"Kimber told me that you and Stormer are leaving," Aja said as he handed her a drink.

"I have to do it," he said with determination. "I have to help my sister – I can't let her go into exile by herself. She needs me."

"I didn't come here to try to persuade you to stay. I know nothing could keep you from your duty to her. I just couldn't let you go with things like they were between us."

"I'm glad you came," Craig admitted, a slight blush on his cheeks. "It's uncanny. Just as I heard the car pull up, I was heading for the phone to give you a call."

"Really?" she asked eagerly.

"Yes," he answered, sincerely. "I've really missed you."

"I've been thinking about you all the time," Aja confessed. She had not drunk from her can of beer. She instead moved closer to Craig. "You don't know how long you'll be gone, do you?"

He shook his head. "It depends on when things get better in this country. If they get better. It could be a long time," he said glumly. As overjoyed as he was at Aja's initiative in patching up their conflict, Craig felt equally despondent at thoughts of possibly not seeing her for years.

Aja then told Craig of Jem and the Holograms' plans to publicly drum up support for a movement to counter the Morality Office. "But even if we are successful," she continued, "it could take a very long time too."

"It sounds risky, Aja," Craig breathed. "I think it's the right thing to do, but please be careful. Or….use those special resources you have to get out of any scrapes you encounter."

"That's one of the things I wanted to talk to you about," Aja said. She swallowed and then looked directly into Craig's blue eyes. "That night we…had our fight? I've been thinking about it a lot since then. I do love you, Craig and I do trust you. I've decided that I want to tell you…our secrets. You deserve to know." She paused, and then continued, "After our argument, I did ask Jerrica for permission to tell you everything, and she said no. She said that the secrets have to stay within the band. But I've decided to go against her wishes. I know I can trust you with our truth, and trust you not to reveal this to anyone."

Despite his curiosity and desire to hear the entire story, Craig gently touched a finger to Aja's lips. "No, Aja," he said. "I am very honored that you realize you can trust me. But I don't want to come between you and Jerrica or the others. I've been thinking about this since you left that night, too. You told me a while ago about the vows you exchanged with them, and I'm not gonna be the cause of you having a rift between you and your sisters."

"Really?" Aja asked, stunned.

"Just like you said that you trust me and feel like you can share your secrets with me, I want you to know that I trust you, too. Even if that means that I don't get to know of everything and even if it means that I have a lot of worrying to do."

"Oh Craig!" Aja exclaimed. She nearly jumped into his arms. She reached for his face and pulled him into a passionate kiss.

Moments later, Aja found herself on the sofa with Craig. Her mind had gone hazy and she didn't know, or care, how much time passed. They still kissed fervently and still felt delight at their reunion even though they both knew it would only be a temporary one. Aja's mind swam with joy at the feelings Craig stirred up inside her and despair at his impending departure.

"I love you, Aja," Craig whispered, before he brought his mouth to one of her ear lobes and began to gently nibble on it. Aja forgot to attempt to stifle a guttural moan. Her body began to throb with urgency.

She reached her hands up inside his shirt, feeling his hot chest with her fingertips. Every nerve ending of Aja's seemed to buzz with excitement. She placed a trail of excited kisses along his chin and neck before reaching again for his lips. The feel of his tongue against hers sent tingling waves of happiness through her system.

"Do you want to take this into the bedroom?" Aja whispered confidently. The very idea felt so intoxicating and so very right.

"Yes," Craig responded, without hesitation.

Hesitantly breaking off this embrace, the two scrambled to their feet and eagerly walked down the hallway.

* * *

Later that evening, Aja and Craig snuggled together under the covers. Her body was covered in sweat and her heart rate only beginning to return to normal. Inside she felt both contented pleasure at their love and agony at the thought of Craig's upcoming departure.

The feel of Craig's hands on her body was mesmerizing. She sighed happily as she felt him again begin to caress her gently.

Although Aja was slender and not at all curvaceous, Craig found himself enjoying running a hand along the outline of her hip, down to the dip of her waistline and up again towards her chest. He continued to touch the smooth skin.

"How many days till you leave?" Aja murmured. "And can we spend them all here?"

Their lovemaking had been exquisite, wondrous. The awkwardness had certainly been there too, but it was manageable because they loved each other. The evening had also been bittersweet with both of them knowing that Craig would soon be leaving the country.

"I wish I could stay here with you," Craig said, sorrowfully. "I'd give anything to be able to. But I…."

"I know. You have to stay with your sister. She can't go into exile alone."

"I wish things were different."

* * *

The following day, the Morality Office caught the Stingers at a most inopportune time. The Office had decided to conduct random investigations of anyone considered suspect, and all rock stars automatically fell into that category. Riot's friend within the Office had recently been demoted and was unable to take action to protect the group.

The Office entered Riot's penthouse apartment late one evening and found the three members of the band in a comprising position. They were allowed to dress before being arrested and taken to jail. Although blood tests of the band checked out, the activities they were partaking in at the time of their arrest were considered unacceptable, and their jail stay would be of an indeterminate length.

* * *

On the day of my departure, I rose long before sunrise. I hadn't slept much the night before anyway. I grimly finished packing, putting my toothbrush and make-up bag inside one of the cases, and hauled all my suitcases down the main staircase. I waited for Craig; he was going to come with the car to pick me up and take me away. I checked my purse to make sure I had all the ID, money, and cold pills that I had crammed in the night before. Extra boxes of cold pills were stashed in my suitcase and my keyboard case, and I had begun taking them several hours ago just in case our escape was foiled.

Suddenly overcome with fatigue, I sat myself down on one of the steps and rested my head on my hands. Any fears about my upcoming departure were snuffed out by sorrow.

I am such a liar. I lied to my bandmates when I told them that they didn't need to come with me. During the last few frantic days of packing and tying up loose ends, my heart slowly broke. Pizzazz, Roxy, and Jetta were always around but kept me at a distance. It was understandable. They were going to lose someone they cared about and were therefore already starting to keep me at arms' length. My leaving was hurting them but they didn't want to admit it. They did a lot of acting up like before, though wisely they kept their antics inside the mansion and not on the town. I'd learned over the years that making mischief is one way they deal with pain.

I kept hoping that, during our farewell dinner last night, the others would make another attempt to convince me to stay. But they hadn't. We drank our margaritas and gobbled the pizza down in relative silence. I hadn't expected any tearful pleas that I remain but still craved them. Every fiber in my body told me that cutting off an arm would be less painful than separating from the others. I left the dinner table while the others were eating their slices of chocolate cake, my appetite having been diminished for days. I knew that no one desired a sobbing goodbye, so I rose from the table and awkwardly hugged each one of them before trudging up to my room, supposedly to get a good night's sleep. During the night I put my headphones on and listened to music. I could vaguely hear the others puttering around but I doubt I got much sleep.

My dreary reverie was interrupted by sounds of struggle. I whirled my head around to see Pizzazz trying to lug several suitcases.

"What the -- ?" I began, as I noticed Roxy and Jetta following after her. They were also carrying luggage.

"Did you have to have him pick you up this early?" Pizzazz demanded.

"What are you guys doing?" I asked, jumping to my feet. I had both of my bags with me, so why would they be awake at this hour and hauling more luggage down the stairs?

"Comin' with you, if you couldn't tell," Roxy answered.

"What?" I asked, trying to push my hopes back down.

"Stormer, the three of us had a long talk last night," Jetta began.

"And we decided that we're comin' with," Pizzazz concluded.

"I…you…come on, you guys," I stuttered. "You don't have to."

"Yes we do," Roxy said. She stood next to me and pulled me into a warm hug. It was much better than the stiff one we'd exchanged last night. I love her so much. "We do need to."

Pizzazz stood on my other side. She nodded at Roxy's words. Jetta came up next to her and smiled beautifully at me.

"You guys…this isn't gonna be easy," I began, though my heart was already singing with happiness. "It's not gonna be much fun and it's definitely not gonna be like our trip to Cancun or anything like that."

Our last vacation took place a couple years ago, before the economy had crumbled. Our days were full of swimming in Cancun's brilliantly clear blue water, lying on white beaches, and visiting clubs where we danced and drank till sunup. My bandmates had spent their nights with some of the many available males too.

"Yeah, we know. But we're comin' anyway," Pizzazz said. She said it in her, 'this-is-final, cross-me-and-you-die' tone. I smiled.

"Are you sure? I mean, you can continue on without me. Start up our own music company again like you talked about, make progress on songs."

"Without you…there's just no point," Pizzazz said.

I bit my lip to stifle the tears of happiness. I finally just said, "Thank you," and lowered my eyes.

When Craig showed up, he saw that I was going to be in good hands. He finally understood. It didn't take too much convincing on my part to get him to agree that he'd stay here with Aja, the woman he loved. The last couple of days since their reunion, it had been hell for him to work on our preparations for leaving the country when he so desperately wanted to be with her. We embraced each other for the longest time before he kissed my cheek and let me go.

"You guys take good care of her," he demanded of my bandmates, though he sounded like he knew they would.

"Don't worry. We're the Misfits – we take care of our own," Pizzazz said.

The four of us we drove past the gates of Gabor mansion, not knowing what awaited us. We only knew that we had each other, and we would survive.

**THE END**

_

* * *

A few final notes from the author:_

Please leave your comments and feedback – I'd love to hear if you liked it or not. Thank you to everyone who has left a review.

At this point, I don't know whether I will write a third book and make this into a trilogy. It's definitely possible since I've had a blast putting this together. I do have a different Misfits fic in the works but I'd love to re-visit this world someday too.

I do want to mention that this story would not have been possible without my two beta testers, Denisia and Severine. They read every draft, fixed numerous errors (though any errors that make it into the final version are my own!), created several ideas to flesh out the characters and scenes even more, and allowed me to bounce countless ideas off of them. I could not have done this without them and I wish to thank them both again. You both are awesome, Denisia and Severine!

And finally, there is one scene that I am not posting to ffnet. I have an extended version of the Aja/Craig scene. (Do you really need to ask "which one?") The scene is rated somewhere between NC-17 and R, and thus is too explicit to be posted here, so if you'd like to read it, just send me an email (and please let me know that you're 18 or older).

--Stormkpr


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